


Speak Low, If You Speak Love

by amarillogrande



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bastardizing Shakespeare, DCBB, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Las Vegas, M/M, Misunderstandings, Much Ado About Nothing, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 19:51:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16667218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarillogrande/pseuds/amarillogrande
Summary: Like most terrible things in the world, this is Gabriel’s fault.And maybe Eileen’s, and Sam’s. Fact is, Charlie’s getting married. Which of course Dean would be over the moon about, despite his objection to all things romantic—but this means spending a week with his least favorite person on the planet, his sparring partner in crime, Castiel, both of them united in only one thing—their scorn for love.So when Gabriel has the bright idea of getting the two anti-lovebirds together, the whole gang is in on the idea. But as the week progresses and things get more and more complicated, they realize that perhaps not all is fair in love and war.A Shakespeare AU starring Dean and Cas.A DCBB 2018 Fic





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big, big thank you to the organizers of the [DCBB](http://deancasbigbang.tumblr.com/) for putting together another fantastic challenge this year. 
> 
> I'm also indebted to my artist, [maiglöckchen](https://convallariini.tumblr.com/), whose updates always left me hungry for more, and I am honestly still utterly blown away at the result. Thank you ❤️
> 
> If you're here, I assume you're a big fan of romcoms, Shakespeare, or bickering husbands—or maybe all three. Either way, enjoy!
> 
> ~chevrolangels
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](http://chevrolangels.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [DCBB Masterpost](http://deancasbigbang.tumblr.com/post/180289080450/title-speak-low-if-you-speak-love-author)
> 
> [Art Post](https://convallariini.tumblr.com/post/180286976183/illustrations-for-speak-low-if-you-speak-love-by)
> 
> Now recced on Destiel Fanfic [here!](http://destielfanfic.com/post/181954725286/speak-low-if-you-speak-love)

 

 

 

 

 

 

_One New Message_

 

**Sam:**

_ >dude _

_ >guess who’s coming after all _

 

Dean squints at his phone screen for a moment, before snatching it up and swiping to open the message.

 

**Sent:**

_ <yeah? _

_ <who? _

 

He sees the bubbles pop up, and waits impatiently as Sam takes his sweet-ass time typing a reply. In the meantime, Dean opens up their group chat for the wedding, looking to see if anyone’s been added recently.

 

**Sam:**

_ >all the college friends _

 

Dean heaves out a dramatic groan, thunking his phone against his head.

 

**Sent:**

_ <oh yeah? _

_ <and is señor asshole coming too? or no _

 

The second he hits send, Dean realizes, with horror, that he sent it to the group chat instead of Sam.

Immediately, the messages start flying.

 

**Alicia:**

_whos senor asshole?_

 

**Max:**

_dont know but sounds like someone id want to meet_

_he single?_

 

**Alicia:**

_shut up max_

_real talk tho, who?_

**Sam:**

_dean means cas_

**Charlie:**

_why am i not surprised_

Dean hunches over his phone, typing furiously.

**Sent:**

_fuck off charlie_

_seriously_

_which of you idiots thought this would be a good idea_

**Max:**

_i did. ur welcome._

**Alicia:**

_it’s also my wedding_

_so i’ll invite who i want thanks_

**Charlie:**

_pls use the term ‘friendmoon’_

_also max just wants an excuse to ‘get to know’ gabriel_

**Max:**

_and what better place to get to know him than a pool where we are both required to be half-naked?_

_im a genius_

**Dean:**

_youre all idiots_

**Alicia:**

_i refuse to use that word and nothing you can do will make me change my mind_

**Charlie:**

_he ran it by me first. and i fully endorsed it_

_and leesh, challenge accepted_

**Dean:**

_gross_

**Sam:**

_gross_

**Max:**

_uber gross_

**Charlie:**

_grow up_

**Alicia:**

_anyway_

_you do remember they were my friends first, right?_

**Dean:**

_well_

_this trip is gonna be a bitch_

**Charlie:**

_u know im starting to think maybe i dont need a best man_

**Dean:**

_good_

**Charlie:**

_dean winchester i swear to god_

**_Sam:_ **

_ooooooh youre in for it now_

**Alicia:**

_you’d think 10 months of us planning this wedding might’ve loosened the stick up his ass_

**Max:**

_i can help with that_

**Sam:**

_OKAY_

_can you not flirt with my brother in the group chat_

**Alicia:**

_yeah, dude, yikes_

**Charlie:**

_but to answer ur question dean, yes_

_hes coming_

Dean groans again, dropping his head back.

**Max:**

_cant wait_

 

**Alicia:**

_gabe and eileen too_

_this is not news guys, btw_

**Sam:**

_yeah eileen told me_

**Max:**

_oh did she now_

**Dean:**

_i changed my mind. im not going._

**Charlie:**

_dean dont be dramatic_

**Max:**

_wat_

_whaaaaaaat is happening_

**Alicia:**

_oh right, max_

_i forgot you havent lived here long enough to know about dean and cas’s bullshit_

**Charlie:**

_war, more like_

**Alicia:**

_they bicker nonstop_

_any time theyre in the same room together_

**Dean:**

_and if you put us in the same house for a week youll have a murder on your hands_

 

 

Sam leans back against the pillows, sighing.

Eileen props herself up, peering at Sam’s phone.

_Taking it pretty hard, huh?_ She signs.

Sam shakes his head.

_Stubborn,_ he signs back.

 

 

**Alicia:**

_we get it dean, you dont like the guy_

_suck it up_

**Charlie:**

_yeah stop pissing off my fiancée_

**Max:**

_wow_

**Sam:**

_inevitably they ruin it for everyone else_

**Dean:**

_i do not_

**Charlie:**

_i love you dude_

_but you kinda do_

**Dean:**

_i wouldnt have to ruin it if castiel wasn’t such a dick_

**Charlie:**

_hes actually not but ok_

**Alicia:**

_you know we can screenshot all of this right?_

**Dean:**

_last week he said i fried half my remaining brain cells and now only had one left_

**Max:**

_ouch_

**Charlie:**

_he said you started it_

**Alicia:**

_screenshotted_

**Charlie:**

_bc you insulted his artichoke dip_

**Dean:**

_thats irrelevant_

**Alicia:**

_sent_

**Sam:**

_I’m surprised no one’s started a fight yet honestly_

**_Dean:_ **

_okay whoa hey_

_youre all making it sound like i just hate on castiel_

_i dont_

_the fact is hes an arrogant douchebag and i just happen to be the only one who calls him out on it_

**Charlie**

_can you put your dumb little feud aside, just for the wedding?_

_i dont want you two ruining it_

**Dean:**

_i will if he does_

**Sam:**

_then we’re screwed_

**Alicia:**

_just you wait_

_by the end of the week theyll be fast friends_

**Dean:**

_not til it snows in july_

_x_

 

“Anyone else feel like we’re in The Hangover right now?”

“Shh,” Charlie says. She presses another one of the buttons on the remote, and the curtains on the window automatically open, spreading to show the vast city below. She squeals.

“Oh, this is so _cool_.”

Dean crosses his arms, huffing out a breath.

When Charlie announced that she was getting married, in Las Vegas, of all places—Dean had labeled her as downright insane. _Then_ she’d dropped the bomb that the happy couple wanted their wedding party to stay for the entire week up to the event _,_ gambling, partying, committing various other bad decisions—in a goddamn penthouse suite, no less—and Dean realized he needed a new best friend.

To add insult to injury, he had to fucking fly. Sam booked him a ticket without his knowledge, and Dean was ready to fight him tooth and nail on that one—it’s only a ten-hour drive, for Chrissakes—but then he realized he’d be leaving his baby to the mercy of Vegas valets, and he’d never be caught dead in a rental car. To get over here, Dean had taken a Valium and washed it down with two mini bottles of whiskey, and had promptly passed out for the entire flight.

So he might be pretty much well and truly along for the ride, but that didn’t mean he can't complain. Of the cost, of the pageantry, of the pretentiousness of it all—of the fact they were in possibly one of the tackiest places in America. If Dean sees even _one_ Elvis impersonator, he’s gonna start throwing punches.

 

But once he walked through the doors and saw the night view of the city below, he shut up real quick.

It was almost worth the plane ride over.

 

Almost.

 

“THERE’S A HOT TUB ON THE BALCONY,” Alicia yells from somewhere outside.

“DIBS,” Max yells back from somewhere upstairs. Right. Because this place has a fucking upstairs.

 

Dean looks around, just taking it all in. Pool table, large swanky couch—and so much modern art he feels like he’s in a museum. Dazzling white lights wink softly overhead, illuminating everything with a soft, ethereal glow. Dean usually leaves the interior decorating to Sam—seeing as he and Charlie and had practically commandeered everything when Dean redid his house last year—but he can now definitely appreciate the sleek wood floors and the high ceilings, everything around them looking straight out of a magazine. It’s still far above Dean’s usual speed—he’s more used to motel rooms that smell like moth balls and mildew.

 

There’s a knock and Sam enters, stepping inside. The penthouse is technically for Alicia and Charlie only, so the rest of them are staying in the rooms on the floor below.

“Put your suitcase on your bed,” Sam tells Dean, glancing around. He gives a low whistle.

“Damn," he says. "How’d Gabe manage to swing this, again?”

“Who cares?” Charlie replies, shrugging. “C’mon, let’s go out on the balcony.”

It’s beautiful, of course—all glass and gleaming metal, with a hot tub, as advertised, as well as a decent-sized outdoor space and plush lounge chairs all around. There’s a long glass table with heat lamps around it in case it gets cold, a comfy modern curved sofa, and a fully stocked bar.

“Aaaand I’ve found my spot for the rest of the week,” Dean says, heading over.

“Go easy," Charlie calls. "I want you conscious when we go to dinner later."

Dean just rolls his eyes.

 

Alicia comes up behind Charlie and slips her arms around her waist, propping her chin on her shoulder.

“You know, I had my doubts about the destination wedding, but right now I can’t for the life of me think why.”

“Bankruptcy,” Dean calls over his shoulder.

“Five days." Charlie sighs. “Five days before relatives and gifts and worrying about the caterer and the music and the—”

“Charlie,” Alicia says, squeezing her a little. “Relax.”

Sam pushes back from the railing of the balcony, looking around.

“So where’s, uh. Where’s everyone else?”

Dean drops some ice in a glass, smirking.

_Everyone, Sam? Smooth._

“The boys are dumping their stuff in their room, I think,” Alicia says, taking out her phone. “And Eileen’s flight got delayed, so she might be late.”

“Oh,” Sam says, looking down at the floor. Dean catches Charlie’s eye, and has to turn away to hide his laugh.

Max comes down the stairs, grinning.

“So, when is it time for the slots?”

Alicia turns, glaring up at her brother.

“Uh-uh. No way. You are officially banned from the casino. Especially after what happened last time.”

“Hey. I still think that machine was possessed,” Max says snottily, hopping down the last few steps.

A loud raucous knock sounds on the penthouse door, before it swings open.

“Hey hey!” Gabriel calls. “Who’s ready for some trouble?”

Alicia and Charlie laugh, dipping back inside to greet him. Dean pours himself a decent amount of whiskey and comes to lean against the doorway, watching as Gabriel dumps a big cardboard box he was carrying on the kitchen counter—(‘supplies’, he says with a grin—and knowing Gabe, that probably means a shitton of alcohol and something illegal.)

 

“Sooooo.” Gabriel spreads his hands, gesturing at the place around them. “Whaddya think?”

“Dude. Gabe." Charlie wraps her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “It’s incredible.”

“Seriously,” Alicia says. “Thank you. This is awesome.”

“Isn’t it?” Gabriel snorts, looking around. “Sometimes there are perks to having ridiculously wealthy relatives.”

“You’re telling me,” comes a voice from behind him.

 

Dean looks up sharply.

“Cas!” Charlie squeals, rushing forward.

Dean slowly lowers his drink.

Castiel Novak, in the flesh. Hair a mess, still in that stupid coat, smiling and tanned and irritatingly cheerful. He laughs, nearly knocked backwards as a blur of red wraps him up in a hug. He greets the Banes and Sam warmly, who even goes to give him a hug, the traitor. He clearly hasn’t seen Dean yet, so he waits, watching as Castiel greets the others.

x

“How was the flight?”

“Your room is okay, right—”

“No problem getting over here—”

“We’ll figure out plans and stuff later—”

“Bout time for a drink, eh, Cas?”

 

Gabriel starts pulling things from the box, and Cas waves a hand.

“Oh no. I’m all too familiar with your bartending skills.”

Max snorts. Sam nods out towards the balcony.

“There’s a bar outside. I think there’s beer in the fridge, too.”

“Then that’s where I’ll be,” Gabriel says with an evil grin, grabbing a full handle of rum and heading out towards the balcony.

 

Max and Alicia follow him, the pleasant jumble of their voices carrying faintly as Cas goes searching for a beer. Even from the kitchen, the view is spectacular, the sight of Las Vegas spread out below them. The sun is just setting at the night lights of the city are slowly winking on, a dizzy kaleidoscope of rushing color.

From the balcony comes the unmistakable whir of the blender. Cas snorts, shaking his head as he opens up the fridge. It’s already stocked with an unreasonable amount of alcohol that they can’t possibly finish within five days, even with eight of them—but at least there are a few six-packs. Cas grabs an IPA, and starts searching for something to open it with, pulling open various drawers.

 

“Cas, you get lost or something?”

“Coming!” Cas yells. “Not my fault nobody bothered to bring a bottle opener—”

He straightens, now looking through the cabinets above the counter.

“Honestly, these fancy places should just have that kind of stuff," he grumbles. “Not like any of us are going to steal it, and if we do, it’s just another thing they can charge us for—”

“Interesting how you keep talking, Castiel, nobody’s listening.”

Cas shuts the cabinet in front of him with a sharp click.

He turns, ignoring the strange hot thrill darting up his spine.

Dean Winchester is opposite him, leaning back against the door frame. He looks perfectly at ease, drink in one hand, the other tucked into his jean pocket.

“My dear lord disdain,” Cas says. He steps back, tilting his head to the side. “Looks like you managed to survive the plane ride over.”

Dean merely grins in response, pulling his keys from his pocket.

“Well,” he says, holding out a bottle opener towards him. “Someone had to come and keep your big head in check.”

Cas twists his lip, but accepts the bottle opener Dean holds out. He pops the top off his beer, letting the cap drop into his hand.

 

“So, Castiel.”

 

Cas rolls his eyes, tossing the cap onto the counter. Dean is the only person he knows who insists on using his full name. He hates it.

“You excited for five days of sacrilege and sin?” Dean continues.

“Thrilled,” Cas replies, tossing the keychain back to Dean. He catches it, smirking.

“You’re definitely dressed for the weather,” he says. “You know, not a lot of guys could pull off the creepy flasher look, but you’re really working it.”

Cas takes a deep swig of beer, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“And I see you’re alone,” he says dryly. “I almost didn’t recognize you without a girl hanging off your lips.”

“Haven’t you heard, Castiel?” Dean replies effortlessly. “I’ve sworn off love.”

“And men and women everywhere breathed a sigh of relief,” Cas mutters.

Dean purses his lips, glancing around.

“What about you?” He smirks. “Where’s your plus one?”

“Nonexistent.” Cas says. “Unlike _some_ people, my life isn’t so empty that I need to fill it with meaningless hookups.”

“ _Well_." Dean raises his glass to Castiel. "Let’s hope you keep that mindset, Castiel, so some poor bastard escapes your claws.”

Cas smiles thinly.

 

“You really got a mouth on you, Winchester,” he mutters.

 The corners of Dean’s mouth tighten.

“Better than being a dick,” he retorts.

“Name-calling, Dean?” Cas tightens his hand around the bottle. “That’s low, even for you.”

  
“Something a lumberjack would do?” Dean says scathingly.

 

He's merely repeating one of Cas’s more pathetic attempts at wit on their last encounter, at Max’s birthday, which was supposed to be just dinner and somehow became a raucous party at Gabriel’s. Dean memorably won that one, with the clincher that Cas should ‘keep rolling his eyes and maybe he’d find a brain back there’.

Cas clenches his jaw.

 

“You know, Dean, I can’t tell you how much I enjoy these little chats of ours—”

He pulls his phone from his pocket, turning his back.

“But in the interest of saving time, I’m going to leave.”

He leaves before Dean can respond, striding towards the rest of the group clustered inside.

 

 

 

“Always gotta have the last word,” Dean mutters as Cas walks away.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean walks back inside, fingers clenched on his glass.

 

The curtains in the penthouse’s main room are still wide open, giving a dizzying view of the city below. Dean avoids it, instead turning to drop into the chair next to Sam, unable to hide his scowl. Sam glances over, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s with you?” He asks.

“Nothing,” Dean mutters.

 

“Any word on Eileen?” Max asks, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, she just texted me,” Alicia says, picking up her phone. “Just got in a car, so she should be here soon.”

Dean can’t help but notice Sam’s sudden rigid posture, and how his hand has jumped nervously to his hair. He catches Charlie’s eye, and she ducks her head, hiding a grin.

 

Sam and Eileen had been dancing around each other for months, ever since they met—and had finally hooked up last month in the world’s worst-guarded secret. Sam had immediately told Dean, obviously, but they were still on the DL to everyone else—or so they thought. Every time their group met up, for game night, for trivia at the bar on Wednesdays, whatever—they only talked to each other and barely had eyes for anyone else. Everyone knew about Sam and Eileen’s relationship except for Sam and Eileen.

  
“Yeah, Sam,” Dean says, because he’s a little shit. “And I’m sure you’ll get lots of quality time together.”

Alicia and Max give identical eye rolls, Charlie sighs and mutters _Dean,_ and Cas just glares at him. Nothing new there.

 

Gabriel hops up and goes for the blender again, to make the second round of margaritas—which is dangerous for everyone. Gabriel’s drinks are notorious for containing about a full bottle of hard liquor, with just enough mixed in so you can choke them down. Dean thoroughly embarrassed himself last Halloween by almost falling off the rooftop of Sam’s apartment—and that was after only two cups of Gabriel’s punch. So he holds up a hand when Gabriel starts passing around cups, instead opting for another whiskey.

Besides, he thinks, as he watches Cas settle into the seat opposite him. He’s gotta keep his wits about him.

  
Alicia digs up a battered pack of cards, and they pass the time with a few rounds of poker (“Practice,” Max insists). And despite the fact that they’re in actual Las Vegas—there are no chips to be found anywhere, so they end up playing for pretzels. None of them take the game seriously, except of course Dean and Cas, whose betting gets more and more cutthroat with every hand. Alicia and Max have started folding on pretty much every round, much more entertained by the competition in front of them. Charlie comes to sit on the arm of the couch next to Alicia to watch, as Cas goes all in, crumbs and all.

 

“Flush,” he says, placing down his cards.

Dean smirks.

“Full house,” he says triumphantly, throwing his own hand on the table.

 

Cas glares at him, grinding his teeth. Dean sweeps his haul into his palm, popping one of the pretzels into his mouth.

“Ah, cheer up, bud,” he says, grinning cheekily. “No one likes a sore loser.”

 

Cas folds his hands under his chin, tilting his head.

“Tell me, Dean,” he says coolly. “When you crawled out of hell, what poor soul had to take your place?”

“Shouldn’t you know, Castiel?” Dean says, shuffling the cards with a snap. “I thought the devil ran hell.”

 

Cas just looks at him for a moment, then stands, nearly upsetting the table.

“Anyone need another drink?” He mutters.

 

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead stalking away, practically leaving a dark cloud in his wake. Alicia watches him go.

 

“We gotta get him out of that coat,” she says absently.

“No, don’t do that,” Dean says, flipping the cards in his hand. “If we’re lucky, he might die of heatstroke.”

“Okay, Dean, can you just—” Charlie sighs, dropping her head to look at Dean. “Can you lay off Cas? Please?”

“Why?” Dean shrugs. “Half the fun is seeing his face turn red. And that smitey squinty look he gets—”

“Dean, I mean it.” Charlie glares. “Seriously.”

Dean sighs.

“Fine.”

 

There’s a knock at the door, and Charlie jumps up, giddy.

“Eileen’s here!”

 

They all look at Sam. He’s gone slightly pale, and he turns and promptly knocks over a chair. Dean pinches the bridge of his nose.

“She’s a little early,” Alicia says, frowning. “I thought the airport was farther than that—”

 

Charlie opens the door, and someone swans in, someone who is definitely _not_ Eileen.

 

“Finally, must’ve been out there for ages—”

The man tosses Charlie a set of car keys, which she just manages to catch, busy as she was gawking at the stranger.

“Bags are with the bellhop. Be a dear, won’t you?”

He looks back out at the spacious room in front of him, a recalcitrant smile curling his lips.

 

At that moment, Gabriel comes back from the bathroom, and he stops dead, staring at the new arrival.

“Oh, fuck,” he says elegantly.

 

“Um, _excuse me_.”

Charlie gets back into his eyeline.

“And who are you exactly?”

The guy barely glances at her.

“Arthur Ketch is the name,” he says. “But you can call me Ketch.”

He strides away before Charlie can answer, beaming at Gabriel.

 

“Hello, Cousin!”

 

He grabs Gabriel’s hand, clapping him on the arm.

“How fares things on the other side of the pond?”

 

Gabriel looks like he just discovered something particularly foul on the bottom of his shoe.

“Arthur,” he says stiffly. “Um...what are you doing here?”

 

Ketch sweeps a hand through the air, gesturing at the penthouse around them.

“Checking on the family assets, coz! And Mother mentioned you’d be here with a few friends for a wedding, so…” He smiles. “Figured I’d join you. I love a good cake.”

Everyone stares at him. Max coughs awkwardly.

 

Gabriel is blinking at Ketch, horrified.

“You want to...come to the wedding?” He asks dumbly.

“Mick, too. Consider it repayment,” Ketch says, flashing white teeth. “For the free stay.”  
He strides past the shocked faces, either oblivious or simply not bothered to care, moving to the kitchen and pulling down a glass, helping himself to the liquor cabinet.

 

“And where is the blushing bride?” He says, turning back to Gabriel as he pops a few ice cubes into his glass.

 

“Brides,” Charlie corrects, moving away from the door. “And you just met one.”

She chucks Ketch’s keys back at him, making no effort to hide her scowl.

Ketch pauses.

“Ah.”

 

Dean leans over, whispering to Alicia next to him.

“Who the hell is that?”

She just shrugs.

 

Another knock at the door—and there Eileen is, duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hey,” she says warmly. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Oh, thank god,” Charlie says.

 

She rushes to give Eileen a hug, and as soon as they separate, she starts speaking obnoxiously loud.

“YOU MUST BE TIRED FROM THE LONG TRIP,” she calls over her shoulder. “WE SHOULD REALLY ALL SETTLE IN.”

“It’s seven thirty,” Max whispers.

 

Gabriel catches on immediately, swooping and catching Ketch by the elbow.

“Well, sorry to cut this short, but we really must turn in—”

He practically muscles Ketch to the doorway—glass and all—Charlie and a very confused Eileen darting out of the way.

“Bye!” Gabriel says brightly. “See you real soon!”

Ketch opens his mouth just as Gabriel slams the door in his face.

 

 

He turns and presses his back against the door, blowing his breath out.

 

Alicia stands.

“Who, in the name of all that is holy, was _that_?”

 

Gabriel runs his hands over his face, groaning.

“I am so sorry—he’s my cousin—”

“You have a British cousin?” Sam asks.

“Second cousin, twice removed, I don’t fucking know—point is his parents have half ownership in the hotel,” Gabriel quickly explains. “That’s why we’re able to stay here for free.”

He looks at Charlie.

“God—I’m so sorry—I had no idea he would want to come.”

Charlie glances over at Alicia, who doesn’t look too happy.

“I guess it’s alright,” Charlie says. “After all, it’s just one more plate, right?”

“Two,” Gabriel says bitterly. “Him and his sidekick.”

“Two straight British dudes at my wedding,” Alicia mutters. “Cool.”

 

Charlie moves next to her, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“We’ll stick ‘em in the back, babe.”

 

x

 

**Charlie:**

<were heading downstairs in ten seconds

<if ur not here were leaving

 

**Sent:**

>dude COMING

>blame sam he was in the bathroom for like twenty minutes

 

x

 

Charlie gives her name to the bouncer-looking guy standing in front of the hotel’s restaurant, and they’re immediately ushered towards a swanky back room, completely private. Max grins.

“You know, I could get used to this.”

Cas moves to follow the rest, but finds Dean moving at the same time. He stops, gesturing impatiently.

“After you.”

“Ah, ah—I always say, age before beauty, Castiel.”

 

Cas swallows the barb he longs to throw back, and moves past Dean without reply, finding a seat next to Eileen at the end of the table. He’s determined to not let Dean get to him, not this week.

He turns to Eileen, pushing all thoughts of Dean from his mind.

It’d been a busy week at the paper before he’d left for this mini-vacation, despite him notifying them of his planned absence months in advance—so it’s been a while since he’s seen anyone from their little group, Eileen, especially. He smiles, raising his hands to ask about her flight, but Eileen starts signing rapidly, and Cas has to concentrate on her movements.

 

 _I have to tell you something,_ she signs, fingers flying so fast Cas can barely understand her.

Cas raises an eyebrow.

_Oh?_

 

Eileen gives a pointed glance to the other corner of the table. Cas shrugs, shaking his head.  
She groans, but then quickly finger spells a name, looking around surreptitiously as she does.

_Sam._

 

Cas looks over at Sam Winchester. He’s sitting opposite Dean, who is on the same side of the table as Castiel, two seats down. (Probably by design, on Charlie’s part—so they can’t snipe at each other all through dinner and quote unquote “ruin it”.)

He looks back to Eileen.

 _Oh. That._ He shrugs.  _I know._

 

Eileen blinks at him, shocked.

_Wh—you—you know?_

 

Cas glances up again. Pretty much everyone here has some knowledge of ASL, due to their friendship with Eileen, but no one is fluent except him and Alicia (who seems quite captivated by her fiancée), which means they can carry on their conversation with some degree of privacy.

 

 _I mean, yeah,_ Cas replies. _You’re not exactly subtle._

 

Eileen stares at him for a moment longer, then shakes her head.

_Well. Since you know—_

She pauses, glancing over again.

_What do you think?_

 

Cas follows her gaze, squinting.

He’s known Sam Winchester for a few months now, ever since Cas finally gave up on the Midwest and moved to California—and despite Sam’s unfortunate...relations...he was a good soul. He tried a little too hard to be well-liked, but in a way that was endearing, rather than annoying. Cas knows him to be very intelligent, very attractive, and he thinks Sam would be such a perfect match for Eileen that it’s almost stupid.

 _I don’t like him,_ Cas signs.

 

Eileen gives him an exasperated look.  
_Cas. Seriously._

 

Cas shrugs.

 _You asked me for my honest opinion, and as a person who finds relationships pointless—_ He lets his expression speak for him. _I don’t see the appeal._

 

 _Then as a friend_ , Eileen says, as their waiter comes back with drinks. _I want to know what you think of him._

 

Cas tilts his head.

_He’s too tall._

Eileen sits back, letting out her breath in a huff.

_I don’t know why I tell you anything._

 

Cas takes a sip of his beer, pursing his lips. He knows he’s being an ass about this, but he’s a little put out that his best friend decided to secretly start dating someone and not tell him about it. If they hadn’t been so goddamn obvious, Cas would still be in the dark about it. He can be a little obtuse sometimes, he knows, but hell. He’s not _that_ blind.

 

_Look. I don’t spend enough time with him to really know what he’s like, so I have to go on what I can see. And if we’re going just based on looks…_

Cas shrugs. _He needs a haircut._

Eileen glares at him.

_You’re ridiculous._

Castiel picks at the label on his beer.

_Well, if you’re looking for an attractive and available man in our friend group, there’s Dean._

Eileen blinks, staring at him. Cas coughs, straightening up in his chair.

_Of course, it’s too bad he’s a complete psychopath._

Eileen doesn’t comment, but there’s a twist to her lips that Cas particularly doesn’t like.

 

He barrels on.

_Okay, look—_

Cas turns to face her, halting a little as he figures out the exact signs he needs.

 _At the risk of sounding like your mother—_ (Cas, pauses again, allowing himself a brief grimace) — _You should focus on your grades. Law school. Do away with men all together._

 _Like you?_ Eileen asks wryly.

 _I'm happier for it_ , Cas replies, sniffing.

Eileen snorts, reaching for her drink.

 _Whatever. Do what you want,_ Cas signs childishly. As _long as you’re not planning on doing anything stupid,_ _like the ‘b’ word._

 

Eileen nearly chokes, and suddenly looks guilty, avoiding his eyes.

“Are you??” Cas says out loud, indignant.

“I don’t know!” Eileen answers, before looking back and realizing their conversation can now be heard by everyone. She quickly switches back to ASL.

 

_He’s not my boyfriend, not officially—but would that be such a bad thing?_

“Yes!” Cas exclaims. Eileen shushes him, looking quickly up and down the table.

_Look. I like him...a lot. And I don’t know...I think this could be good, Cas. I think it could be great, actually._

Cas scowls sourly.

“Well, when it goes bad, just remember, I told you so.”

 _You haven’t told me anything,_ Eileen sasses back.

 

The scrape of a chair catches their attention, and Eileen leans forward, hissing under her breath.

“Gabe’s coming over—not a word, you hear me—do _not tell him—”_

 

“Well, well, the fingers are really flying over here. What’re you two fools gossiping about?”

“Nothing, apparently,” Cas answers, grabbing his beer.

Gabriel snatches a chair from an adjoining table, pulling it up next to Cas.

“Too bad,” he says, grinning toothily. “I’m invoking best friend rights. You gotta spill.”

Castiel looks to Eileen. She plants her hands on the table, glaring.

 _Don’t you dare,_ she mouths.

 

Cas contemplates for a brief moment, then turns, crossing his arms.

“She’s in love.”

 

Gabriel’s face lights up with a sort of manic glee. Eileen has murder in her eyes, but Cas’s out of swinging distance.

He continues.

“And who? Well, that’s the million-dollar question.”

 

Gabriel grins, leaning forward.

“Wouldn’t happen to be that tall fella at the other end of the table with the Fabio mane and an ass like the North Star?”

Eileen looks back and forth between Gabriel and Cas, sputtering.

“Does _everybody_ know?”

 

“No,” Gabriel says, at the exact time Cas says, “Yes.”

 

Eileen drops her head in her hands.

“Oh my god,” she groans.

 

“Hey, it’s fine,” Gabriel consoles. “There were probably some people out in Canada who didn’t know—”

“Shut up, Gabe,” Eileen mutters.

“And maybe a few out in the good ol’ homeland, you really can’t tell these days—”

“SHUT UP, GABE,” Eileen says again.

 

Cas sits back in his chair, smiling smugly. Eileen glares at him.

“And fuck you very much, Cas.”

“You’ll get over it,” Cas says blithely.

 

“I think it’s a grand choice,” Gabriel says, clapping Eileen on the shoulder. “The guy is well-worthy.”

Eileen looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“And you’re not just saying that?” She asks skeptically.

“Ouch. I’m wounded, E,” Gabriel says, face pinching into a mock-offended expression.

“Well, I, for one, think this is a terrible idea,” Cas mutters, arms still firmly crossed.

Both Eileen and Gabriel roll their eyes. Cas sits up, indignant.

 

“Remember Pierce in high school?”

Eileen throws up her hands.

“Christ, Cas, that was years ago.”

“And then that guy in your chem class our first year of college.”

“Yeah, well, he was a dick—”

“And Mark last year—”

“Damn, we’re really going through the entire list of ex-boyfriends, huh,” Gabriel says.

“Don’t even get me started on you,” Cas says as he glares at Gabriel.

 

“Is there a point to any of this, Cas?” Eileen asks. “Or are you just trying to make me feel like shit?”

“That’s exactly it,” Cas says grumpily. “I don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

 

Eileen’s face softens, and Gabriel places a hand on his heart.

“Aww, Cas, that was almost sweet.”

Cas just glares at him.

 

“Dating is an antiquated and commodified product which serves only to make people miserable,” he says snottily. “It’s the worst.”

 

It's a speech they've heard many times before. Gabriel tilts his head, pursing his lips.

“You do realize we are here for a wedding, right?”

“So….what?” Eileen asks, shrugging. “You want us all to go back to arranged marriages then?”

“No,” Cas says icily. “I think we should all stop putting pressure on each other to ‘find someone’ and realize that being alone is a completely acceptable and often fulfilling prospect.”

“But it’s fun to make out,” Gabriel says, sighing dreamily. “I’d probably make out with anyone right now.”

 

Cas leans forward to grab his drink.

“I can’t tell you what to do, E.” He takes a sip. “But he hurts you, and I'll kill him.”

“She’ll probably beat you to it, Cas,” Gabriel says. “Ain’t he cute when he’s all murder-y?”

 

Cas ignores him, taking another generous gulp. Gabriel points his beer bottle at him.

“You know what? Before I die, I swear, I’m going to see you sick with love.”

 

Cas lifts his glass to them, in a mocking toast.

“If I’m ever ‘so in love’ that I can’t drink my way out of it, I give you permission to give me a good hard slap across the face.”

Eileen raises an eyebrow.

“That a promise?”

 

“We’ll find you someone, Cas,” Gabriel says. “And then you’ll be as googly-eyed as Eileen over here.”

 

 

She shoves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, good ol' Ketch. Can't have a Shakespeare AU without a classic Shakespearean villain. We haven't seen the last of him...
> 
> Note: ASL's grammar is quite different from Standard Written English, so we can imagine Cas and Eileen's dialogue as a translation. If I got anything glaringly wrong, please feel free to let me know.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam comes stumbling back, long hair wet and dripping.

 

“Dean, you gotta go in the pool,” he says, grinning as he towels the water off his skin. “ _Perfect_ temperature."

“No, thank you,” Dean says, leaning back against the canvas chair. He’s still clinging stubbornly to his thick flannel, despite all of Charlie’s attempts to wrestle him into something resembling a swimsuit. Dean tugs at his collar, feeling a line of sweat down his back.

Charlie is right close behind Sam, coming in hot and tumbling into Alicia’s lap.

“Ugh—you’re all wet,” Alicia whines, shoving at Charlie. Charlie laughs, but sits off on the chair next to her, planting a kiss on her cheek. Max smirks.

“You know, I could make so many jokes right now…”

Charlie raises an eyebrow.

“And I’m thankful you won’t.”

“You better not.” Alicia glares at him. “I’m your sister, it’s gross.”

 

Eileen looks up from her book, peering across the patio and to the hotel doors.

“Where’s Cas?”

Dean’s ears prick up at the mention of Cas, but he keeps his face carefully neutral.

“Still working on his article.” Charlie frowns sympathetically. “But he said he was almost done."

“Yeah, two hours ago,” Alicia says, crossing her arms.

 

“Don’t worry,” Dean interjects. “I’m sure we’ll all be able to bear the loss.”

Everyone pointedly ignores him.

 

Alicia stands, and goes over to the pool, dipping one foot into the water.

“At least it’s warm,” she says. “But I still don’t know if—”

Max grabs his sister around the waist and throws her in the pool with a loud _splash_. She surfaces moments later, spluttering.

“MAX!” She yells.

“Oh, shit—”

 

He books it as Alicia climbs out of the pool, chasing after him, Gabriel cackling on the sidelines. The lifeguard bellows at them.

“NO RUNNING!”

“They’re gonna get us kicked out,” Eileen says, shaking her head.

 

But she gets up when Sam offers her a hand, and they join Gabriel in the shallow end, Eileen dangling her feet in the water. Charlie and Dean watch as Alicia gets her revenge, Max hitting the surface of the pool with a sound that makes Dean wince.

“Sure you don’t wanna go in?” Charlie asks, smirking. Dean slips on his sunglasses.

“No, thank you.”

He leans back against the comfy chair, propping up his feet.

“So. What’s on the agenda for today?”

 

Charlie crosses her legs up underneath her, pulling out her phone.

“We gotta go to the tailor’s, I’m forcing Sam to get a haircut, and then there might be a surprise event later,” she says, throwing him a mischievous grin. Dean raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t like surprises.”

“This one will be fun,” Charlie says, scrolling quickly. “Promise.”

“And Sir-Squints-a-Lot is going?”

Charlie glances up from her screen.

“You know he will be. Why do you even ask anymore?”

Dean crosses his arms, grumbling under his breath.

“You said he had an emergency with work. Is it too much to hope it’ll take him the rest of the day? Or the week?”

“Be nice,” Charlie says, stressing each word.

“Do I have to?”

Charlie ignores him. Dean pulls out the dramatic whiny tone far too much for it still to have an effect on her.

 

“Seriously. The look on his face—I think half the time he’s constipated,” Dean says, grabbing his drink and taking a sip, trying and failing to avoid hitting himself in the face with the ridiculous cocktail umbrella. Charlie puts down her phone, turning fully to face him.  
“You know—”

“I still don’t understand why you invited him,” Dean interrupts. “He’s not really a part of the group. If I’m being honest.”

“I’ve known him since college," Charlie replies dryly.

“From the cross country team?” Dean says indignantly. “You were only on it one semester—”

“Still—”

“And it was purely to get into Alicia’s pants,” Dean mutters, leaning back.

“And it worked,” Charlie says smugly.

 

She watches Dean for a moment, then sighs, propping one elbow up and leaning her cheek against her hand.

“I’m just happy we all live in the same city now,” she says. “And you should be too. And now with Sam here, joining us—”

“That reminds me,” Dean says, sitting up. “I got the email from Stanford, about the neural implant contract—”

“No,” Charlie says, cutting him off. “No work talk. I absolutely forbid it.”

She grabs her sunglasses and places them on her head.

“Can’t we just be normal people for once?”

Dean sighs.

“Fine.”

 

“ _As_ I was saying.”

Charlie crosses her arms.

  
“You’ve never told me why you hate Cas so much.”

“I don’t _hate_ him—”

“Loathe deeply, whatever.” She raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Dean gets a strange look on his face at that moment, and he sets his drink down again, biting at his lip.

“Forget it, Charlie,” he mutters.

 

Charlie’s other eyebrow shoots up to join the first, both disappearing into her hairline. Dean Winchester has been many things when talking about Castiel Novak—irritated, condescending, superior, even—but melancholy was definitely not one of them.

“Dean,” she says softly.

But that closes the shutter, and Dean’s mask is back, his lips curling with a sneer.

 

“He’s haughty, he’s arrogant,” he says, ticking the list off on his fingers. “He’s formal to the point of fucking weirdness—”

Charlie sighs, but thinks of all her interactions with Cas. Haughty, no. Arrogant—definitely not. Formal….okay, she’ll give Dean that one—the dude can be a little stiff—but ditching the accountant duds will take care of most of that. Charlie nods, already formulating her plan.

“Mmhmm,” she says absently.

 

“And maybe you should be interrogating _him_ ,” Dean says. “He takes every opportunity to insult me. It feels like being shot at sometimes.”

He scoffs, grabbing his drink.

“I’m getting annoyed just thinking about it.”

“Fine.”

Charlie reaches down to grab her phone again.

“We won’t talk about Cas anymore. But I am going to force you to look at photos.”

 

Dean rolls his eyes, but Charlie is already moving to come sit next to him, swiping through the camera roll on her phone.

“I went and took pictures yesterday, and they’re already setting everything up—”

She smiles.

“See there’s the gazebo, for outside, and the reception hall, and then there is where you’ll be sitting, with everyone else.”

 

Despite himself, Dean’s impressed with Charlie’s choice of location and the whole setup. He’s all for free booze and good food, but he’s never really seen the point of weddings. Just big and expensive and half the people who get up to the altar are gonna find themselves hating each other anyway. It’s a con, really. Waste of time and money.

He’s made this thoughts on the subject _very_ clear, yet here they are. He thinks Charlie’s still set on convincing him to jump on the wedding train. He’s here, isn’t he?

 

Charlie sees Dean’s zoned out look and wiggles the phone in front of his face, drawing his attention to the screen.

“And here is where the speeches are gonna take place.”

 

Ah. there it is.

 

“No, Charlie.”

“Dean.”

“No!”

Charlie sits back, huffing. Dean crosses his arms.

“We’ve been over this already. No way, no how.”

 

“Yes, I _know_ ,” Charlie says placatingly. “But I thought, now that we’re here, and you saw the venue and it all felt real...you might rethink it.”

Dean sets his jaw.

“Tough luck. Answer’s still no.”

“Dean, you’re my best friend.”

“Flattered, but no.”

Charlie plants her hands on her hips. She’s starting to look pissed. Dean backtracks.

“What would I even say, Charlie?”

 

“I don’t know!” She says indignantly. “Stuff about me, about our friendship, true love—”

Dean crosses his arms.

“You know damn well I can’t when I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“Then goddammit, Dean—” Charlie spreads her hands. “Fake it! For one night. It won’t kill you.”

Dean huffs, looking out over the pool, not answering her.

 

“Hey friends!”

Gabriel drops down next to them, throwing an arm around Charlie.

“What are we talking about, here?”

“Dean’s inability to commit to anything,” Charlie says flatly. Dean scowls at her.

 

“Wonderful!” Gabriel says, grinning. “My favorite topic.”

“What’s your favorite topic?” Sam asks, followed closely by Eileen and Max. Dean groans.

“And the gang’s all here,” he mutters. Gabe smirks.

“Just Dean Winchester, our favorite fly-by-night, never-stays-for-breakfast commitment-phobe.”

“You’re all idiots,” Dean says loudly.

 

Max sits, leaning back on the lounge chair.

“Yeah, why are you so anti-love?”

“He’s not anti-love, believe me,” Sam mutters.

“You know I’m right here, right?” Dean says indignantly.

“One night stands are completely different from relationships,” Charlie interjects.

“And _I_ want know why we spend all our time talking about Dean’s love life,” Alicia says sensibly.

“Amen,” Eileen says.

 

“Love,” Dean scoffs. “Ugh.”

 

Being a group of late twenty-somethings with healthy appetites, the topic of love and relationships comes up quite frequently, and Dean is always the lone holdout. He firmly believes there’s no such thing as real love, something his friends try to talk him out of with an irritatingly increasing frequency—but he sticks to his guns, every time.

Dean Winchester does not date. It’s a known fact. There have been attempts over the years, of course—Charlie keeps suggesting people to set him up with—but Dean can count the number of people he’s wanted to see a second time on one hand. He likes being alone, he likes his space, and whenever he’s in the mood, he can go out and find the temporary kind of love that leaves him sweaty and sated and exhausted.

 

Dean twists up his face.

“It isn’t real, you know. Even science says so.”

Charlie purses her lips.

“No one’s going to date you with an attitude like that.”

“Do we have to go over this again?” Dean throws up his hands. “I don’t want to date anyone. I’m good. I’m completely fine doing what I’m doing. Relationships are for schmucks.”

“He says to his two engaged friends,” Alicia says.

 

“You want the proof?”

 

Dean starts ticking off statistics on his fingers.

“Half of marriages end in divorce, twenty percent of couples have had someone cheat, eighty percent have just _thought_ about cheating—”

“You gotta stop reading Cosmo,” Sam says. Eileen scoffs.

“Yeah, there’s no way that’s true.”

 

“Love doesn’t exist,” Dean insists. “It’s just a bunch of endorphins telling you to stick around with another human long enough to pop out some babies. It’s stupid.”

 

Gabriel shakes the water from his hair, smirking.

“You seem to be extremely invested in romance for someone who’s sworn off love.” He looks over to Sam. “You didn’t get this dumbass gene, right?”

“No, Sam’s always been the romantic one,” Dean mutters grumpily. Eileen glances over at Sam and he blushes, his ears turning slightly pink.

“Can’t wait to see him on Friday,” Alicia says. “Is this how your toast is gonna go? ‘Happiness is a myth, love is dead, blah, blah, blah, congrats on the wedding?’”

“He’s not going to do it,” Charlie says flatly.

 

Alicia looks over in alarm, eyes widening.

“What? Dean, why—”

“I’m not going over this again,” Dean says, standing. “And now we’ve picked apart Dean Winchester’s psyche, fan-freakin-tastic. So you know why I don’t want to give a speech, so stop pressuring me.”

“Fine,” Charlie says, her eyes steely. “I won’t.”

“Good,” Dean says.

 

 

Eileen looks over at Sam.

 _Yikes,_ she mouths.

 

Dean stomps off, muttering about needing another drink.

 

x

 

The elevator comes to a stop, a soft _ping_ announcing their arrival in the lobby.

Cas exits swiftly, pinching the bridge of his nose. His neck feels stiff, and his head is aching from staring at his computer screen all morning. He had fixed the mini-crisis with the article, but he’s still pissed because _I’m gone all week, out on vacation, do not disturb_ has no meaning to these idiots who ‘run’ the newspaper.

He passes by the doors that lead to the spacious outdoor pool area, quickly spotting his friends clustered around a group of lounge chairs. And to his displeasure, sees Dean walking towards them as well, a drink in his hand. Just another thing to add to Castiel’s bad mood.

 

They all greet him with enthusiasm as he sits next to Max, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Cas, you made it!” Alicia smiles. “You finish your article?”

Cas nods, squinting up at the bright Nevada sun. He hadn’t even thought of the weather, just rushed out here as soon as he’d sent the email with the file. He sheds his coat, but there’s nothing to be done about his jeans. He sees Dean turn to look at him, and Cas shoots him a glare. Dean quickly averts his eyes, bringing his drink to his lips and pulling out his phone.

Cas snorts. Pretending to text so he doesn't have to speak to him? Amateur.

 

“Well, Cas, perfect timing.”

Charlie comes to stand next to Alicia, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“So I know you’re all planning something for the night before the wedding—”

“We are?” Max whispers to Gabriel.

“But we wanted to have one big blowout, before all the relatives—”

“All the old people,” Alicia interrupts.

“Join in,” Charlie finishes.

She taps something on her phone and pulls up some flier that’s advertising a party at Planet Hollywood, and it’s—

“It’s a costume party,” Charlie says gleefully.

 

She’s got to be fucking kidding.

 

He looks around at the rest of them, noting Dean’s murderous expression.

Cas snorts under his breath. For once, it seems they agree on something.

 

He sits up.

“Shame, I don’t have a costume.” Cas heaves a woeful sigh. “Guess I can’t go.”

“Knew you’d say that,” Alicia smiles. “So we came prepared.”

“We’re also in Las Vegas, Cas,” Gabriel says. “Half of the people here are in costume.”

Max hops up.

“I gotta go shopping. Immediately.”

“Hey—nothing _too_ weird, alright?” Alicia calls as he speeds off towards the hotel.

Charlie laughs.

“Well, while you’re all preparing—” She stands. “I just gotta grab my jacket, guys, and then we’ll head to the tailor’s. Vámonos.”

 

Cas sighs, and stands, resigned to his fate for the afternoon. Then, with a stab of horror, he realizes the only other person who stood was Dean.

 

Dean beats him to the question, sputtering.

“Wh—Wait—why is _he_ coming?”

“Why isn’t _he_ coming?” Cas says indignantly, pointing at Gabriel.

“Are you kidding?” Gabriel leans back, looking smug. “I’ve lost count of how many suits I have. Just tell me the color scheme and I’m good to go.”

“What about Sam?” Dean whines. Sam just spreads his hands, shrugging.

“Sam doesn’t have to come, because he actually listened to my recommendation to get his done a month ago,” Charlie says. “But you two kept dragging your feet, so here we are.”

Dean groans. Cas feels quite the same. He loves Charlie, but spending the entire afternoon with Dean….

Somebody’s not going to make it out alive.

 

Charlie links her arms in both of theirs, steering them back towards the hotel.

“C’mon, it’ll be an adventure. Like we’re the three musketeers.”

“There were four of them,” Cas mutters.

“Shut up, it’ll be fun.”

 

x

 

“Well, Castiel,” Dean mutters. “Having fun yet?”

“Haven’t had this much fun since my last dental filling,” Cas says flatly.

 

He responds to the tailor’s request to turn around, and gets stabbed with a needle as a result.

 

He feels utterly ridiculous, standing rigid and stiff as one of the tailors flits around him.  Dean seems to feel very much the same, calling the getup a ‘monkey suit’ and nervously fidgeting every time the tailor gets near him.

Charlie had insisted the boys wear blue to fit in with the theme, and apparently all of them had outright rejected her except for Castiel. Lucky him.

“So I think we’ll do the hem—here, and then we’ll slim the back of the legs. Sound good?” The tailor, a man called Donnie, asks, glancing up at Dean. Dean smiles back, giving him a wink.

“Sounds perfect.”

 

Cas rolls his eyes. Dean has shamelessly flirted with every single member of the staff since they got in here. It’s incredibly tacky.

Cas is already measured and taped and pinned, and the other tailor is conferring with Charlie, a pretty woman whose name Castiel didn’t catch. Dean already tried his lines on her, but she had rolled her eyes and brushed him off. Cas likes the woman already.

Charlie stands and comes over, nodding her approval.

 

“Hooo hooo, looking good, guys.” She purses her lips. “And Cas! Who knew you actually had a body underneath all those layers?”

Dean jumps in, obnoxiously loud.

“Oh yeah, Castiel was worried about whether he was gonna fit into his tux. At his age? And with the amount he eats—it was definitely going to be a close one.”

Cas narrows his eyes, shooting him a glare. Charlie scoffs, crossing her arms.

“Shut up, Dean, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She smiles. “He looks great.”

 

The tailor stands, pulling a pin from Cas’s sleeve and placing it in the corner of her mouth.

“What do you do?”

Cas starts at the question, squinting at its source. Oh. She’s talking to him.

“Oh, I’m, uh—” Cas shrugs. “I’m an editor.”

“You know the printed word is dead, right?”

Cas closes his eyes briefly, before looking over at Dean. He wiggles his phone.

“Long live technology,” he says cheekily.

“Philistine,” Cas mutters. Dean grins.

“Won’t even pretend to know what that means, so I’ll assume it’s a compliment.”

 

“No, silly.”

The woman doing Castiel’s suit laughs, light and airy, tossing her curls over one shoulder.

“I meant to stay in shape,” she says, smiling at him through her lashes. Dean tracks the conversation, his eyes narrowed.

Cas clears his throat, shifting awkwardly.

“I run. On occasion.”

“Well.”

She brushes off some nonexistent dust from Cas’s shoulder, maintaining uncomfortable eye contact.

“It definitely suits you,” she says, winking.

 

Cas raises an eyebrow as she saunters away, missing the scowl painting Dean’s face.

“See? Even the tailor’s got the hots for you, Cas,” Charlie whispers. “Told you all that cross country training would come in handy someday.”

“Why _do_ you do all that running, Castiel?” Dean interjects. “Trying to escape from something?”

“Yes. You,” Cas says, deadpan.

“Oooh, that was _weak_ , Castiel. Those steroids finally going to your brain?”

“Don’t you have a robot to build, or a patent to steal, or something?”

“Okay, you two are starting to give me a headache,” Charlie says, rubbing her temple.

 

Dean and Cas glare at each other, neither speaking, but neither willing to surrender first by breaking eye contact.

“Alright, hon,” the woman says, coming back, folding up the tape measure in her hands. “You’re done.”

“Thank god,” Cas mutters, and sweeps off the platform.

 

Dean watches him go, left slightly angry and mostly unsure as to why.

 

x

 

“Alright, what is your _problem_?”

 

Castiel stops dead, turning around.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

Dean pays no heed to Cas’s dangerous tone, instead marching up to him and jabbing a finger in his chest.

“You got something to say, buddy, say it. I don’t know why you hate me so much—”

“Like that’s _my_ fault?” Cas interrupts indignantly. Dean stops.

“What?”

Cas scoffs, crossing his arms.

“You insult me constantly. You can’t let one moment pass without taking some sort of dig at me—why? Why do you continue to antagonize me? Day in and day out?”

Dean laughs cruelly.

“Isn’t it obvious, Castiel? Thought you’d know by now.”

“Then why?” Cas snaps.

 

Dean looks at him for a moment. Then his eyes harden, and his jaw sets.

“Because I’ve had it with your smarmy do-gooder routine.”

_“What?”_

“You're the nastiest person I know,” Dean says scathingly. “Then you turn around and pretend you're the greatest thing to walk God’s green earth. Sorry, buddy, but you ain't.”

“Oh, and I suppose you are,” Cas shoots back. Dean scoffs.

“I never said that—”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Dean, but you're no picnic yourself.” Dean’s face twists, and his mouth opens, but Cas cuts him off.

“You're rude and selfish and arrogant and you’ve somehow convinced yourself in that twisted mind of yours that it passes for charm,” Cas finishes, clenching his hands into fists. Dean glares back at him, grinding his teeth angrily.

“You know what your problem is?” He says eventually. “You’re so ready to hate everyone.”

“And you're so desperate for everyone to like you,” Cas snaps.

 

“Ready to go, bitches?” Charlie says, coming from the register, tucking away her credit card.

 

With one last scathing look at Dean, Cas stalks off, banging out the front door.

 

Charlie rounds on Dean.

“What did you do now??”

“Nothing!” Dean says indignantly.

She plants her hands on her hips, scowling.

“Bullshit.”

 

When Dean still isn’t forthcoming, Charlie sighs, shaking her head.

“God, Dean, can you stop? He’s my friend, and I don’t appreciate you constantly treating him like crap. And this is my _wedding._ ” She spreads her hands. “Can’t you stop your stupid sparring match for three days?”

Dean just looks at his shoes. Charlie sighs.

“Jesus, Dean.”

She starts to walk after Cas, towards the exit.

“Think of someone else for a change.”

 

Dean waits for a moment, then follows her. His stomach is churning, and combined with Cas calling him selfish, he feels like shit.

 

Both of them pointedly ignore him in the car ride back to the hotel, which Dean expected, but it’s no less crappy. He props his hand on his cheek and stares out the window, wondering how he’s going to manage to fix this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is there a costume party you ask? Because of plot reasons! And because it can't be a Shakespearean comedy without some sort of crossdressing or miscommunication drama. Ah, just the best.

Castiel steps through the door, shifting uncomfortably.

He’s gonna kill Gabriel.

 

He had been perfectly fine with _not_ dressing up. Charlie and Alicia should have been happy that he was going, at least, that they managed to drag him to this overcrowded, overpriced, noisy, _smelly_ club.

Cas groans, scratching at his itchy fake mustache.

“Careful, bro.”

Gabriel catches his wrist, eyes twinkling.

“That’s the central focus of the outfit. Lose that and you’re just some weirdo in a cape.”

Cas scowls at him, shaking his hand off. He looks Gabe up and down, taking in the white coat and the cowboy boots.

“How come you get to look relatively normal and I have to wear _this_?”

“‘Cause it makes you look dashing,” Gabriel says, giving him a wink.

“Then you wear it,” Cas mutters.

 

They left before the others, who said they’d meet them here. Cas scans the dancing crowd, but can’t pick any of his friends out amongst the masks and costumes. Which he supposes is the point.

Leave it to Charlie and Alicia to find a masked ball for them to attend. Cas pulls at the collar of his shirt, feeling the sweat already dripping down his back.

 

They make their way to the bar and Gabriel pushes a glass into his hands, grinning. Cas takes a sip without much thought, and nearly gags.

“What is this?”

“As close to pure ethanol as you can legally get,” Gabe says, taking a large gulp of his own. “Cheers.”

“Cas!”

 

Max and Alicia find them, Alicia locking her arms around Cas’s middle. Her hair is done up and elegantly adorned with silver ribbons, a pair of sparkling fairy wings on her back. When it comes to Max’s costume, he clearly didn’t bother too much with fabric. He’s got a firefighter’s helmet on and not much else.

“Look at you,” Alicia says, grinning. Cas huffs, pulling her hands away from him.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Looking good, Maximillian,” Gabriel says, looking at Max with a lecherous grin.

Max gives him a wink.

“Right back atcha, Dr. Sexy.”

Alicia grabs Cas’s hand and leads them over to a secluded booth, where a cluster of bottles and drinks await.

“Comped again, can you believe it?” She says excitedly, pulling in Cas and Gabriel to sit next to her. “He just showed up, flashed his credit card—”

“Who showed up?” Gabriel asks, frowning.

 

“Well, hello again.”

Cas looks up.

 

It’s the same man—the one who had entered the hotel room earlier—and there’s another behind him, dressed in a sharp suit, stubble dusting his jaw.

“I hope you’re enjoying the present,” the first man purrs. “Consider it a token of appreciation.”

“Believe me, it’s well appreciated,” Max says, raising a glass.

“Gabriel.”

The man folds his hands, tilting his head to the side.

“I hope we’ll have some time to chat this week. I’m eager to speak to you about the family business and how you’ve been faring during your little period of rebellion.”

Cas narrows his eyes. He’s heard about this Ketch before, mostly from Gabriel’s bitching. Cas had always listened with a tolerant ear, but assumed Gabriel had to be exaggerating. He’s starting to realize he wasn’t.

“Just fine, thank you,” Gabriel says thinly. Ketch looks at the four of them and smirks.

“Clearly.”

He glances over at Cas.

“Don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. Ketch is the name,” he says, holding out a hand.

Cas doesn’t take it.

 

“Castiel,” Gabriel answers for him. “He’s the cousin I actually like.”

 

Ketch’s lip curls.

 

“Come now, there’s no need for that!” He says, accent curving delicately around the words. “I’m here to extend the olive branch. We might have had a few….snarls in the past—but believe me. All water under the bridge.”

Gabriel clenches his jaw, but doesn’t speak. Ketch coughs.

“You remember my associate? Mr. Mick Davies?” He asks, gesturing to the man behind him.

“Gabriel, hello,” the man says, stepping forward. “But can’t say I know the rest. Believe me, I would’ve remembered,” Mick says, eyeing Cas up and down with a smirk.

Cas glares back.

 

After a brief beat of silence, Ketch steps back, bowing his head slightly.

“Enjoy the festivities. My congratulations to you again, dear,” he says to Alicia.

“And, uh, you’re welcome,” he says, indicating the drinks in front of them.

 

At that, Ketch sweeps away across the floor, Mick trailing close behind him.

They all watch him go, nobody speaking.

 

 

“Wow,” Alicia says, after a moment.

“Wow,” Max echoes.

“You’re _related_ to that guy?”

Gabriel drops his head into his hands, groaning.

“Please don’t hold it against me.”

 

Cas shakes his head. His own relatives are no picnic, but he’s never envied Gabriel’s fucked-up side of the family tree. Every single one of his brothers had followed in their father’s footsteps and had become high-powered executives in their family’s conglomerate empire. So it follows that they weren’t too keen when Gabriel up and left for California to take a position at a restaurant—in the kitchen, no less. Didn’t seem to matter that the place has two Michelin stars.

“My dad put him up to this, I fucking know it,” Gabriel says, seething. “Don’t know how the hell he managed to find out.”

He turns, shaking his head.

“I never thought they’d try to stir this shit up now. I’m sorry, Alicia.”

 

She reaches out and grabs his hand.

“Gabe. Dude, no. Don’t apologize. Because of you, we’re able to get married here, in freakin’ Las Vegas, and not in some run-down community rec center.”

She snorts.

“We all know Charlie and Dean’s startup is going to be the next big thing, but she ain’t rich yet.”

Alicia stands, gesturing.

“Don’t think about that British dick. Let’s go dance.”

 

Gabriel still looks a little pissed, but he laughs, and allows Alicia to pull him up and lead him towards the dance floor. Max tosses back the rest of his drink and follows them.

 

Cas sighs, looking out at the mass of seething bodies in the club. He’s entirely too sober for this.  

He knows it’s only moments before someone will notice he hasn’t followed and will come drag him to the dance floor, so he reaches out, grabbing one of the bottles and a glass.

The first one goes down not-so-easily, Cas wincing at the taste. But because he doesn’t do anything half-assed, he takes two more.

 

x

 

Dean spies Charlie at the bar, and pushes his way through the crowd to get up next to her. She turns when he sidles up next to her, her expression pinching slightly.

“Oh, you’re back,” she says. “You find Sam and Eileen?”

Dean snorts, leaning his elbows on the bar.

“Unfortunately. I’ll be trying to scrub that image out of my eyes for awhile.”

Charlie doesn’t laugh, running a finger around the rim of her empty glass. Dean bites at his lip.

“But they’re coming. I let them know you said they ‘abandoned you’ by leaving you with me.”

Charlie sniffs, turning slightly away to gaze out into the club.

Dean sighs.

 

He signals the bartender, who pours him two beers.

“Great costumes,” the bartender says as he sets the glasses down, grinning. “You’re a cute couple.”

“Not a couple,” Dean and Charlie say simultaneously. They’ve gotten that comment far too many times to let it bother them.

But Dean can understand why. Charlie’s Poison Ivy outfit is perfect down to a T, and it doesn’t help that he’s dressed as Batman. Not his choice, by the way. Alicia had tossed two jumpsuits at him and Sam when they both claimed to not have anything to wear. He might’ve wrestled Sam for the Batman one, but who wouldn’t? Way better then being Spiderman.

Dean tucks away his wallet and slides one of the glasses across the bar towards Charlie, a peace offering.

“Here,” he says. “Apology beer.”

Charlie purses her lips, nose in the air. But after a moment she reaches out and takes it.

“Don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you,” she says haughtily, taking a sip.

 

Dean chuckles under his breath. He scoots closer to her so that she can hear him over the thumping music and flashing lights. He takes his mask off, because it’s hard to be heartfelt with cheap plastic on your face.

“I’m sorry.”

Charlie glances at him, looking unimpressed. Dean picks at the edge of his sleeve, not looking at her.

“Look...me and Castiel...we’re oil and water. We’ve never gotten along.”

He sighs.

“But I shouldn’t have let that ruin this week for you. It was dumb and immature and I’m sorry.”

Dean looks up at her.

“I can drop it. You know. For you.”

Charlie still is silent, but she seems to be chewing at her lip. Dean groans.

“And….I guess….if you still _really_ want me to—”

He stops, blowing out a breath.

“I’ll do the speech.”

 

Charlie turns, face splitting into a smile.

“Oh, Dean—really? Oh my god—”

She crushes him into a hug, beaming.

“You are forgiven. Incredibly. Thank you, oh—oh my god, I can’t wait.”

Dean huffs and hugs her back, wondering if he just made a huge mistake. In terms of things Dean is good at, public speaking ranks pretty much at the bottom of the list. And being open and emotional on top of that? Recipe for disaster.

But it’ll make Charlie happy. And that’s all that matters.

 

Now to see if he and Cas can avoid another spat over the next three days. Shouldn’t be too hard.

Dean sighs. Who is he kidding? That’ll be a harder task than giving the goddamn speech.

 

x

 

Mick looks over at Ketch’s face, and he snorts into his scotch.

“You’re in a mood.”

 

Ketch rolls his glass around in his hand, glancing around at the assembled partygoers.

“This place is a dump,” he says, sounding bored. “These people are insufferable, this music is too loud, and this—” He lifts his drink, looking at it scornfully before throwing it back on the bar. “Is atrocious.”

He chews at his lip, looking around.

 

“Vegas,” he says scathingly. “Father made it sound like it was such an exciting prospect. Instead I’m stuck chasing after a deadbeat relative, who, for some reason, they want back in the family fold.” Ketch scowls. “This is a waste of my time.”

Mick snorts.

“I, for one,” he pauses briefly to watch a passing girl, admiring the shortness of her skirt. “Am enjoying the scenery.”

Ketch taps the bar, and the bartender begins making him another drink.

“Actually put some alcohol in it this time, will you?” The man gives him a look, but drops an extra slug into the glass. Ketch waves him away.

“I’m a simple man, Mick,” Ketch says, picking up the glass. “I eat when I’m hungry, drink whenever I damn well want, and if the urge takes me…” He trails off, spying the girl he had noticed at the penthouse through the crowd. She’s talking to one of the others, and despite her costume—a black suit with a matching hat and sunglasses—she’s stunning, brushing her long brown hair out of her eyes. Ketch traces a tongue over his lips.

 

He stands, abruptly leaving Mick behind at the bar. He strides through the crowd, combing his hair into place.

She’s talking to someone else, but that’s no matter. Ketch comes up to the pair of them, eyes fixed on the girl.

“Name’s Ketch. Don’t think we’ve had the chance to talk yet, but I would be interested in knowing you better.”

She looks mildly surprised, eyes flicking to her companion. Ah yes, the other one. Ketch turns to him now, giving him an unimpressed once-over.

“Why don’t you get us some more drinks, my friend?” Ketch claps him on the shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

The tall one looks to her.

“Uh, Eileen?” He says questioningly. Right—Eileen, that was her name.

“It’s fine, Max,” she says. “I think I’ll need another drink.”

Her eyes are on his, narrowed for some reason.

 

The tall one leaves, and Ketch puts on his winningest smile, stepping up close to her.

“Eileen. Don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of a conversation alone together, yet.”

Eileen’s lips twist.

“No...I think I would have distinctly remembered that...experience.”

“But suppose we’ll have the chance to get to know each other,” Ketch continues, smiling. “Did I mention my parents own the hotel you’re staying in? I know the place very well. All sorts of...secret nooks and crannies to get lost in,” he says, placing a hand on her waist.

 

Eileen’s eyes flare.

“Is that right?”

 

She grabs his wrist and distinctly removes it, stepping back a distance.

“Well, I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll take my chances and go it alone,” she says scathingly.

 

Max comes back at that moment, looking between the two of them.

“There a problem here?” He asks, the protective tone in his voice not going unnoticed.

“No,” Eileen says firmly. “We were just leaving.”

She takes Max’s hand and drags him off through the crowd.

 

Ketch stares at the spot she just vacated, the dull throb of the music matching the angry pounding starting in his temple.

 

Mick comes up behind him, swirling the ice in his drink.

“What happened?”

Ketch clenches a fist.

“She just rejected me. _Me_.”

“Ooh,” Mick says. “Ouch.”

“No.”

Ketch wheels around, jabbing a finger into Mick’s chest.

 

“I’m Ketch. I don’t get rejected.”

 

x

 

Dean sighs, taking another drink.

He had been stuck in this inane conversation for the last twenty minutes—after talking to Charlie, Sam had come back with Alicia and Gabriel in tow, and they all decided to hit the dance floor. Dean’s feet were starting to kill him (No one said Batman ever wore comfortable boots) and he opted to sit for awhile, and had gotten trapped into conversation with a guy in a vampire getup. Yes, Dean works in neuroprosthetics. Yes, his company is a startup. Yes, it is expensive. No, he’s not going to explain what the word ‘prosthetic’ means.

The guy had really given him his best lines, but had finally surrendered and disappeared back into the crowd to find his friends. Not that he wasn’t attractive, but Dean just wasn’t feeling it.

Dean breathes a sigh, sinking back into the couch cushions. He puts the gin and tonic the guy bought him to his lips (at least there was one perk) and scans the club. No sign of Sam, or Charlie, or hell, anyone else he recognizes. He’d be glad to see anyone from their group right now.

 

“Sam?”

 

Dean turns around.

Cas is standing behind him, wobbling slightly.

 

Well. _Almost_ anyone.

 

 

Cas sniffs, gesturing towards Dean, slopping vodka all over the floor.

“Sam, right?” He blusters on, without waiting for an answer. “Sam, hey, come talk to me.”

 

Dean can’t stand up, otherwise it would be very clear that he is _not_ Sam, even to someone as drunk as Cas is right now.

Cas is all in black, wearing a—dear god, he’s dressed up as _Zorro,_ of all things, and he’s wearing a flimsy mask that is doing nothing to hide who he is, the idiot.

 

At Dean’s (presumed Sam’s) silence, Cas pushes his way through a clump of people and sits himself next to Dean, squinting at him. Dean keeps his mouth clamped tightly shut, trying not to give anything away. The mask, he knows, hides most of his face, but he’s still worried he might do something to instantly tip Cas off. Hell, they know each other well enough by this point.

“Hey, Cast—Cas,” he says reluctantly, remembering at the last minute to shorten the name.

 

Cas takes another drink, looking around.

“So where’s your sidekick then?” He asks. “Eating his way through the poor assortment of bar food?”

Dean tilts his head, trying not to show his anger.

“Ha ha,” he forces through his teeth. “What do you mean?”

“Dean,” Cas says bluntly. “Trying to see how many chicken wings he can fit into his mouth?”

“Another classic insult,” Dean mutters.

“What?” Cas says, squinting in his direction.

Dean coughs. Crap. He’s gotta talk more like Sam.

 

“I mean, um. I’ll uh, tell him what you said.”

“Oh, please, do,” Cas says snarkily. “And then he’ll just make some smartass remark in reply that will most likely be entirely unfunny and make _no_ sense.”

Dean glares at him, clenching his jaw.

 

“Y’know, I can barely hear you, Sam, you’re muttering.” Cas reaches out, and to Dean’s horror, flicks at the side of Dean’s mask. “Take that off and we’ll do a lot better.”

Dean panics, edging back out of reach.

“Hey, hey, no—it’s a costume party, right?” He forces out a laugh. “If I take it off then I’d ruin it.”

Cas shrugs.

“Suit yourself.”

 

He empties his glass and sets it on the table, turning fully to face Dean.

“Your unfortunate brother aside, there is a point to this conversation.”

 

Dean narrows his eyes, wondering what Castiel could possibly have to talk to Sam about. Cas straightens, trying to look sober, and missing by a mile.

“Just so you know, if you do anything to hurt Eileen, I have connections in law enforcement,” he says, slurring slightly. “Good at covering up evidence.”

 

Dean blinks. That was definitely _not_ what he expected to come out of Cas’s mouth. After their confrontation at the tailor’s, Dean had been feeling less than charitable towards Cas—even more so than usual. This is the first indication that the man actually has a heart.

 

Cas misinterprets Dean’s expression, continuing.

“‘M serious,” Cas blurts. “I have known her for years and I’m probably the closest thing she has to family, so don’t, for one second, think I’m not above kicking your ass.”

Dean can’t help it, he snorts. Drunk Cas is hilarious, a rare creature Dean's only seen a few times—but absolutely smashed Cas is somethin’ else, leaning in his seat, hat tilted and a lock of hair tumbling dangerously over his forehead. 

Dean hastily clears his throat.

 

“Not that I’m not appreciating the whole protective older brother thing—” (Dean’s pulled the same thing on Sam’s girlfriends a few times)— “I think Eileen will be the one kicking my ass.”

“I’m just saying—”

Cas pokes a finger at Dean’s chest.

“I like you, Sam, but you better not screw this up. Eileen falls hard, and she falls fast. I’ve seen it before.”

“So, what?” Dean feels his ears heating up, his tone turning challenging. He feels like he has to defend Sam’s damn honor, or something.

“You don’t think it’s—we’re serious?”

Cas scowls.

“I don’t even believe in this crap in the first place. But Eileen sure as hell does, so you better let me know right now if you feel the same way.”

 

Dean pauses at that. It took balls, for Cas to confront him— _Sam_ —like this—and Cas is glaring at him, his eyes hot and challenging. But despite the steel, there’s a softness there, a strange sort of vulnerability.

Dean recognizes it. It’s exactly what he felt when Sam told him about Eileen in the first place. It’s worry, and pessimism, but the deeply buried tiny hope that this time, this relationship _will_ work. Dean cares so damn much for his brother, and he doesn’t want to see Sam build up his expectations, just to get his heart broken at the end of it all.

What Cas wants now.

 

Dean swallows.

“I....don’t know,” he says carefully, which is only partly the truth. Sam hasn’t made any indication of whether this is something he thinks will last, but Dean knows him. And he can see the signs, so different than any of the other relationships Sam’s had in the past. This is going to have some staying power.

Cas crosses his arms.

“Is that why you haven’t told everybody?” He asks, squinting at Dean.

Dean frowns, scrambling for what he thinks Sam would say. Why _haven’t_ they told everybody?

 

“Well, uh, you know.”

Dean shrugs, pitching his voice a little to match Sam’s.

“We’re going slow. Trying to figure things out before we add the pressure of all our friends knowing about it. Except Eileen told you, obviously, and I told Dean.”

Cas’s eyes narrow.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” he repeats. “Always back to _Dean_.”

 

Dean digs his nails into his palms, starting to get riled up by the venom in Cas’s voice. But no—he promised Charlie—and Cas doesn’t even know he’s talking to the very object of his current tirade.

Cas leans back, pulling off his fake mustache and the hat.

“For once I’d like to go through one day without hearing about the precious Dean Winchester,” he mutters.

That does it.

 

“Why do you hate him so much?” Dean snaps.

“What?”

Cas has turned those piercing eyes on him, and for a moment Dean is struck, unable to speak. By removing the mustache and the hat, Cas took away the last part that made him look ridiculous. Now he's downright handsome, hair disheveled and dressed all in black. It makes Dean even more pissed.

 

“I mean, he’s m—he's my brother,” Dean says, knowing full well he’s letting his anger filter through. “Why do you hate him?”

With every word, there’s more chance he’ll be found out, but inside, he’s burning with curiosity. Why  _does_ Cas hate him?

 

Castiel narrows his eyes, giving Dean a long, searching look. Then he sits up, his eyes hardening.

“He loves to play the class clown. He’s practically Charlie’s jester. Nothing of consequence has ever come out of his mouth. He’s all no jokes and no substance.”

Damn. Cas can be poetic when he’s drunk. Scathing, but poetic.

 

Dean grits his teeth.

Fuck it.

“I’m going to find the others,” he says abruptly, standing and stalking away. He doesn’t care if Cas notices at this point, he’s too angry.

 

He finds Sam at the bar, thankfully alone. Dean rips off his terrible mask and throws it onto the bar, seething. Sam has long since ditched his, and he looks over at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s your problem?”

“He is _Satan_ ,” Dean hisses. “He may look like a man, but he is Satan in human form.”

He snatches the drink from Sam’s hand. He doesn’t care what’s in it, he just needs to be a lot drunker than he is right now.

“Cas, I assume,” Sam smirks. Dean tosses back the lime green concoction in the glass, nearly gagging at the taste.

“I tried, y’know?” Dean says nastily, signaling vigorously at the bartender. “Because Charlie asked me to, and I was playing nice, I was trying to be the bigger person—and then he just comes and starts up the same shit—” He huffs. “Like what the fuck is his _damage_?”

Dean takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly.

“You know what? No. I’m not going to think about him anymore,” he says, raising his hands. “It’s over.”

“Mhm,” Sam says patiently.

 

The bartender finally comes back, a beer for Sam and whiskey for Dean, which he promptly downs in about three seconds.

 

“And you know what else??”

Sam rolls his eyes.

 

“He didn’t even _recognize_ me,” Dean says indignantly. “ _Me_.”

He slams his glass on the counter.

“He said I was Charlie’s _jester_ ,” he says. “Like, what the fuck?”

“Well,” Sam says. “That one time at Moondor—”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean growls.

He orders another drink, even though he’s starting to feel a little woozy. He might regret it come morning, but right now he’s pissed and his pride might be a little hurt, so sue him. Dean wants to be plastered.

“So I try to make jokes, and make people laugh—what’s wrong with that?” He scoffs. “Everyone likes it. They like _me_. No substance, my _ass_.”

Dean snatches up his second round the second the bartender places it in front of him.

“Castiel is just pigheaded enough to believe everyone agrees with him,” he says.

“You know, you’re the only one who calls him that.”

Dean looks up, scowling.

“What?”

Sam shrugs.

“Castiel. Everyone else we know calls him by Cas.”

“Well, just another one of my bright ideas.”

 

He glances over his shoulder, and spies Eileen talking to Charlie.

“He thought I was you by the way. Gave me the whole protective speech about Eileen,” he says, indicating the girls with a nod of his head.

Sam, to his credit, hardly looks ashamed. Instead, he gets a misty look in his eyes, staring off into far away space.

“I think I want her to move in with me,” he says dreamily.

Dean jerks his head around, gaping.

“ _What?_ ”

Sam opens his mouth, but Dean cuts him off, sputtering.

“You—you _just_ started dating!”

“I know, Dean, I _know,_ ” Sam says, holding up his hands. “But it just...this just _feels_ right.”

“Yeah, but _moving in together?_ ” Dean says indignantly. “That’s way too fast, even for you. And I doubt she’d go for it.”

Sam glances up, looking guilty. Dean balks.

“Oh, for the love of—”

He glares at Sam.

“ _Seriously_?”

Sam just shrugs. Dean presses a hand to his head, breathing in deep.

“You don’t waste any time, do you,” he mutters.

 

“Dean.”

Crap. That’s Sam’s serious voice. Dean turns, grudgingly giving him eye contact.

“I don’t want to waste time, Dean,” Sam says softly. “I just want to be with her.”

Dean looks at him for a moment.

“You’re really serious about this girl,” he says. It’s not a question.

“Yes,” Sam stresses urgently.

He looks over at Eileen, his eyes getting that glazed look again.

“I think...I think I might be in—”

“Don’t you dare say the ‘L’ word,” Dean warns.

 

Sam’s brow furrows.

“What’s the matter?” He squints at Dean. “I thought you liked Eileen.”

“I do,” Dean insists. “But—”

“You even bought me that sign book—”

“I know—”

“Then what’s the issue?”

Dean purses his lips. Sam is looking at him, puzzled and just wanting answers, and Dean can’t do it.

“Forget it,” he mutters.

 

“There you are—”

Charlie and Eileen have made their way towards the bar, Charlie slinging an arm over Dean’s shoulders. Eileen smiles at Sam, moving closer to him, making a happy little gesture. Sam signs a few clumsy things back, grinning ear to ear. Dean bites at his lip.

Well. Looks like Cas’ll have nothing to worry about.

 

They drag them both back to the private booth area they started the night at, and Sam and Eileen immediately ensconce themselves into a corner, dropping deep into conversation. Charlie leans forward, beckoning Dean forward.

“So, update. Kinda caught the lovebirds in the act. And seeing how that’s basically half of us who know now—I convinced her to spill the beans.” She raises her hand for a fist bump, grinning. “Am I the best, or am I the best?”

“Was gonna come out anyway,” Dean mutters. “Sam told me they’re going to fucking move in together.”

Charlie’s jaw drops, and she seems to process for a moment.

“Well, okay, that’s not necessarily a bad thing—”

“Charlie, Dean.”

The both of them cut off, looking over. Eileen is scooting over, holding Sam’s hand.

“Just so you know, when Cas gets everyone here, we’re gonna tell them. Y’know. About us.”

Sam is beaming, practically shining like the sun. Dean doesn’t want to sour his mood, but he’s pissed, at Sam, at his shitty life, at this stupid club—and he needs an outlet for that frustration.

“Goody,” he mutters. “My favorite person.”

Charlie narrows her eyes.

“Dean.”

“God, I can’t stand him,” Dean continues. “So smug, so self-righteous, and he’s—”

“Oh, look here he comes,” Sam says.

 

Dean turns, jerking back when he sees how close Cas is behind him.

“Personal space, dude,” he mutters.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, looking anything but pleased to see him.

 

Cas has sobered up some but apparently hasn’t regained his motor skills quite yet. He steps back, waving a vague hand over his shoulder.

“I was told to bring everyone, and I delivered,” he says to Sam, swaying a little.

In tow is the rest of the crew, in various states of abandoning their costumes. Dean shuffles to make room, and Alicia, Max and Gabriel all crowd into the tiny booth.

 

Gabriel leans his elbows on the table, grinning ear to ear.

“Now,” he says. “Whatever could be so important that you dragged us away from the dance floor?”

Sam looks at Eileen, and she nods at him. Sam smiles.

“We wanted to tell you something.”

He holds up their intertwined hands, and Eileen beats him to it, blurting out the words.

“We’re dating!”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Max says. Alicia hits him.

Eileen blinks at them, and Sam is gaping.

“Wh—you guys knew? How—”

The rest of Sam’s indignation is lost to the roar of the club. Dean sulks into his whiskey, watching as Eileen dissolves into laughter with the rest of them, before looking up at Sam with stars in her eyes.

 

“Disgusting,” Dean mutters.

“Have to agree with you there,” says a voice in his ear.

 

Dean slams a hand on his thigh.

“Jesus, fuck—” He whips around, trying to calm his racing heart. “Stop _doing_ that.”

 

Castiel just turns those lamplike eyes on him again, looking at him balefully.

Dean tenses up, ready to sling back whatever insult Cas manages to throw his way—but surprisingly, he doesn’t say a word. He instead turns back to Sam and Eileen, watching how they’re curled around each other, watching as Eileen giggles and leans in, pressing a kiss to Sam’s cheek.

They’re both strangely silent, and Dean feels a catch in his throat, wanting to form some sort of comment, but utterly unable to think of anything.

Cas beats him to it.

“I can’t think of anything worse than to have someone say they love me,” he murmurs softly.

 

Dean looks down at his glass, a hot bitter twinge in his gut.

“Me too,” he mutters.

Castiel’s lip twists, and he’s silent for several long moments.

“Something we’ve got in common, apparently,” comes the eventual reply.

Dean exhales.

“Not much, is it?”

“No,” Cas says. “Not much.”

 

They fall into silence again, watching their friends as if separated through a screen, watching from the outside.

Cas shakes his head.

“Loveless, sad, and pathetic,” he mumbles.

 

An ugly hurt clenches in Dean’s chest.

“You know what?” He turns to him. “Blow me, Castiel.”

 

Cas’s brow furrows, and there’s a brief flash of sad confusion on his face, before it’s wiped away and replaced with a steely coolness.

“Ahh, yes,” Cas says, turning back towards the table. “Just the vivacity and wit I’ve come to expect from all our interactions.”

 

Dean scoffs, but he misses aloof by a mile.

“Screw this.”

He stands, downing the rest of his drink.

“I’m going back to the hotel.”

 

He turns and shoves off through the crowd, his eyes stinging, and not just from the whiskey.

 

x

 

Gabriel turns to watch him go with curious eyes. Sam and Eileen are too busy to notice.

Cas pushes himself up off the wall.

“And I think I’ll get another drink,” he mutters, starting off towards the bar.

Charlie deftly takes the glass from his hand, patting him on the back.

“How ‘bout you switch to water, big fella?”

“Okay,” Cas says, and totters off.

 

Max starts pouring them all more shots as Charlie whispers in Alicia’s ear, giggling.

When Sam finally comes up for air, he manages a glance around, and frowns.

“Where’s Dean?”

“Took off,” Gabe says. “Something Cas said, I think.”

They all groan.

 

Eileen sighs.

“Why are they like this?”

“Because they’re idiots,” Charlie says. Sam looks at Eileen sheepishly.

“And I don’t think I helped,” he says, rubbing his cheek. “He really wasn’t happy with all the relationship talk.”

“Is he really that against dating?” Max asks, adjusting his fireman’s hat.

“Yep,” Gabriel sighs. “Refuses point blank. It’s a true tragedy.”

“I think he’s just scared of opening himself up,” Alicia says sensibly.

“Remember Cassie, though?”

“Who’s Cassie?” Max asks, confused. Gabriel leans forward, rubbing his hands together.

“I sense a juicy backstory,” he says, grinning. Charlie rolls her eyes.

“Not _a lot_ to tell, but—” She pauses to take a sip of her drink. “In the entire time I’ve known Dean, he’s dated approximately one person, and that was back in high school.”

“It was a disaster,” Sam says. “To put it politely.”

Charlie grimaces.

“Well, your parents’ divorce will do that to you.”

Eileen glances pointedly up at Sam.

“Should I be worried?”

He smiles, shaking his head.

“Definitely not.”

He leans in, and—

“Ugh, gross, guys!”

“Get a _room_.”

 

Gabriel folds his hands, thinking.

“We gotta find someone for Dean.”

“Tried that,” Sam says. “Not gonna go through that mess again.”

“But if it were the right person….”

“While you’re at it, find someone for Cas, too,” Eileen says. “He could use some excitement in his life.”

“Or we could, like, respect their wishes,” Alicia says, giving them all a pointed look. Gabriel snorts.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

 

With a sudden bolt, Charlie sits up straight, her eyes glowing.

“Oh my god.”

 

They all look at her.

Alicia tilts her head.

“What?”

 

A slow grin spreads across Charlie’s face.

“I know someone who would be absolutely perfect for Dean.”

Sam and Eileen have twin skeptical expressions, and Alicia is frowning.

“Who?” Max asks.

Charlie smiles devilishly.

 

“Cas.”

 

Sam nearly spits out his drink.

“ _What?”_

“No.”

“No fucking way.”

“You’re insane.”

Sam sits back, scoffing.

“They’d drive themselves crazy within a week.”

Eileen crosses her arms.

“Not to mention us.”

“Hey, now, wait a second.”

Gabriel glances over his shoulder, double-checking Cas isn’t in earshot.

“Charlie might be onto something here.”

Max looks at him doubtfully.

“Do tell.”

Gabriel lifts a hand, starts ticking a list off on his fingers.

“Snarky, sarcastic, stubbornly loyal—”

“Nerds,” Charlie adds, nodding.

“And their fighting always seemed like flirting anyway.”

Sam is blinking, stunned realization dawning on his face.

“You’re….not wrong.”

 

Gabriel leaps up.

“Gentlemen. Ladies. Four days remain in this trip. I propose that we take upon ourselves the impossible task—”

He pauses, grinning wickedly.

 

“To make Dean and Cas fall in love.”

 

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Eileen groans.

Max raises his glass.

“Hell yeah. I’m in.”

Charlie rubs her hands together, smirking.

“This is gonna be good.”

“Okay, so they share some similarities,” Sam interrupts. “But this will not work. No way.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Gabriel scoffs. “Come on.”

He looks at the few holdouts, waggling his eyebrows.

“Who’s with me?”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes, but huffs, sinking back in her seat.

“Fine.”

Eileen shrugs.

“If you really think you can do it.”

Gabriel grins.

“We’ll put Cupid out of a job.”

 

Sam leans forward, raising an eyebrow.

“So what do we do?”

Gabriel looks to Charlie.

“Thoughts, Red?”

 

She grins, cracking her knuckles.

 

“Gather round, friends,” she says. “I have a plan.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the meddling begin...

Dean cracks open his eyes, and instantly regrets it.

 

“Owwwwww. Oh. Jesus.”

 

He throws a hand over his eyes, blessedly blocking out the bright light. His other hand fumbles, pats beside him, and hits something cool and wet. Dean chances a look again.

Glass. Celery. Umbrella. Pool.

Dean squints again, the world in front of him stubbornly sliding into focus.

 

He’s out on one of the deck chairs, shaded by the umbrella from the worst of the sun, but the hangover currently digging into his skull really objects to how fucking bright everything is.

He shifts, and realizes he’s got sunglasses on his head. Those would help. He slides them on, everything now blissfully UV-covered.

Dean remembers. He had woken up and stumbled out here in a stupid moment of _maybe some sun would help me feel better_. He feels just as shitty, and he doesn’t have the comfort of his bed and pj’s to combat it.

At least there’s the bloody mary.

Dean clumsily grabs the glass, thankful for the dumb twisty straw he remembers Charlie popping into the glass with a smirk.

 

“Fuck off,” Dean says to no one.

 

He settles back in the chair, vacantly watching as people stroll past, a few doing lazy laps in the pool. His toes drop onto the hot concrete. He wiggles them.

There’s a peal of light laughter, and Dean squints again through his shades.

A couple, walking hand in hand. The girl is looking up at the guy adoringly, his smile dazzlingly bright.

“Ugh,” Dean mutters, pulling the drink up to his lips again.

 

The flavors wash around his mouth, cleaning out the sticky sweetness of last night’s indulgences. He remembers talking to Sam at the bar, and his annoyance returns in full force.

 

Sam. That hypocrite.

 

Dean remembers when they used to sit on the curb after school, waiting to see if Dad would show up, passing time by laughing at all the dramatic high school couples. When they used to laugh and joke at those few who walked by holding hands, mocked those moony-eyed teenagers tripping over themselves for so-called ‘love’.

 

And now, Sam is doing the same goddamn thing.

 

It never used to be like this. Back when they were in high school, into college even—they were thick as thieves. They had to be, growing up in each other’s pocket like that—and after mom and dad’s divorce, there was only really one constant they had, and that was each other.

Sure, there might have been a girl here or there, guy in Dean’s case sometimes, but never anything serious. His brother might’ve joined in with all their friends’ teasing about Dean never sticking with the same person for longer than a week, but Sam couldn’t deny that he was very much the same. They both had seen what love did to people.

 

But then came Ruby. And Sarah. And Amelia. And Becky. (That last one was a doozy.)

He’ll never forget the first time Sam blew him off to hang out with a girlfriend.

It sucked. And it hurt like hell.

 

Sam was suddenly a serial monogamist. So everybody started getting on _Dean’s_ case about how he should do the same, find somebody and ‘settle down’, because nearing thirty and being perpetually single was somehow now longer acceptable.

 

And the worst part is, Dean likes Eileen.

She’s sweet, she’s smart, she takes no shit and gives Sam just as much sass back. Dean did have this weird unfounded grudge against her at first, most likely because he knew her as Cas’s best friend—you can’t spend that much time with someone without getting eau-de-asshole on you—but as he got to know her, Dean realized Eileen was just the kind of person he would want Sam to settle down with.

And isn’t that terrifying.

Maybe Sam just grew up. Maybe Dean should, too.

 

Then he scoffs.

No. Love is stupid, and it only gets you hurt. Everyone’s better off alone.

 

 

A shadow passes over him, and Dean scowls, looking up.

 

 

Charlie, standing over him and grinning.

“Hey sunshine,” she says. “How you feelin’?”

“Screw you,” Dean mutters, moving to sit up. It exacerbates the pounding in his head, and he rubs his temples, groaning.

“Here.”

Charlie holds out a couple painkillers and a bottle of water, which Dean accepts gratefully.

“What’re you doing down here?” Dean asks. Charlie shrugs.

“You weren’t answering my texts. So I figured I’d come get you.” She holds out a hand, and Dean takes it, standing slowly.

“Now, I know it’s the last thing you want to do, but—”

“Oh no,” Dean groans.

“Lunch is happening at the hotel cafe,” Charlie says, grimacing. “We’ve been...coerced by our favorite British wedding crasher.”

Dean drops back, closing his eyes.

“Fine.”

“But that requires you to be dressed.” Charlie smirks, tugging at the front of his shirt. “Not that I’m not appreciating ‘beach bum chic’.”

 

She disappears off towards the direction of the cafe, not bothering to wait for him. Dean yawns and takes off his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes as he walks back inside. He leans back against the wall of the elevator, taking a mini-nap as it zooms upwards towards the top of the hotel. His and Sam’s room is at the very end of the hall, and is blissfully empty, thank god. Dean isn’t sure he could deal with ‘Monsieur Love’ right now.

 

The bathroom is one of those weird modern ones that have doors that barely could be called doors—great thick wooden slats that are completely see through—another reason to be glad for Sam’s absence. Dean shuts the door and turns on the water.

 _Am I ever going to act like that?_ He thinks, as he starts stripping for the shower. _Like a crazy lovesick fool?_

It’s not like he’s exactly picky. Throughout college and for sometime after, Dean had cultivated quite the reputation for himself. He wasn’t _ashamed_ , per se, free love and all that—but a few months ago, something changed. Maybe it was the constant ribbing from his friends, maybe it was the awkwardness or the hollow lonely feeling after the ‘adios’, but somewhere along the line, the one-night stands had lost their appeal.

 

He steps underneath the hot spray—this place has _amazing_ water pressure—lathering up the shampoo. He takes a moment to indulge, massaging it into his scalp, trying to alleviate his headache. He groans, sinking his head forward to rinse.

Sam’s always been a fall hard, move fast kinda guy, and it wouldn’t surprise Dean if he starts talking about marriage next.

Ugh.

That makes up his mind. He’ll never be caught dead acting as ridiculous as Sam.

Judgment Day itself will come and go before Dean Winchester falls in love.

 

He shuts off the water and steps out of the shower, toweling himself off.

 

They’d have to be rich, Dean thinks.

 

Obviously he wouldn’t sacrifice all his morals and values for some fool’s broke ass, so they’d have to have some serious cash. Smart, too, or else they’d have nothing to talk about. Sense of humor, of course. Looks would be a nice cherry on top. _Mild._ Dean’s had quite enough of arguing for one lifetime, thank you. Honest. Loyal. Good with conversation, loves music, and his eyes would be bl—

Dean jerks the towel away from his face, scowling at his reflection.

 

He scares up a pair of boxers and the shirt he grabbed on the way into the bathroom, giving it a quick sniff test. Hmm. Passable. He slowly buttons it up, yawning.

Heavy footfalls sound from down the hall, and Dean can hear Sam and Gabe’s voices moving closer, the pair of them entering the bedroom.

“Last night was in-fucking-credible.”

“I dunno, man.” The bed creaks as Sam sits, leaning back against it. “I’m a little hungover. I’m gonna need this lunch to get over it.”

“Well, I had a _fabulous_ time,” Gabriel says, and Dean can practically hear him waggling his eyebrows. “And an _excellent_ morning.”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Sounds like you did too, Sam.” A third voice, Charlie. “Dean told me you didn’t go back to your room last night.”

Sam doesn’t appear too abashed—Dean sneaks a quick peek through the slats—in fact he looks smug. The bastard.

“Well, yeah. That’s why I wanted to stop by. Grab my wallet,” Sam says, strangely stilted.

 

Dean huffs and grabs his pants from the floor, and sets about the monumental task of getting his foot in the hole.

 

“Dean in there?” Gabriel whispers, snickering. Charlie nods gleefully.

“Yeah. You ready, Sam?”

Sam fumbles at his pocket.

“Wait, I need my lines—”

Gabriel rolls his eyes.

“You are hopeless, dude—”

He pitches his voice up louder, Sam still digging into his various pockets, cursing.

 

“Hey, Charlie—”

 

Dean manages to wrangle one leg into his pants and is now working on the other, trying to tune out Gabe’s obnoxious voice.

 

“What was it you were telling me the other day?” Gabe continues. “That Cas was _in love_ with Dean?”

 

_CRASH._

 

“I know, crazy, right?” Charlie says loudly, edging slightly closer to the bathroom. “Especially since Cas acts like he hates him.”

 

Dean had nearly taken the shower curtain with him when he fell, and he holds his stinging elbow, gawking at the bathroom door.

_What the hell?_

 

“Guess that was his way of covering up his crush,” Gabriel shrugs.

Through the slats, Dean sees Charlie shake her head.

“Uh-uh. This isn’t just a crush. This is arrow through the heart, puppy dog eyes, Mr. Darcy-pining-for, unrequited love. The guy’s a _wreck_.”

Gabriel crosses his arms.

“How do you know?”

“Well, he’d never _tell_ me, obviously, but I have eyes,” Charlie says.

“It’s not just that,” Sam says, sounding flustered. “Eileen says it’s true as well.”

“Really?” Gabriel leans forward, intrigued. “What did she say?”

 

There’s a pause, where both Gabriel and Charlie look to Sam.

Dean waits, frozen with his ear glued to the door, pants long since forgotten.

 

Sam gapes back at the two of them, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Well, uh, uh—” he stutters, renewing his search vigorously. “You know—how—”

“How?” Gabriel says, holding his hands out to Sam, glaring at him.

Sam finally surfaces with a crumpled piece of paper and whips it out, turning his back to the door.

 

“Strange,” he says haltingly. “I would have thought his spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.”

Charlie smacks his shoulder.

“Wrong part,” she hisses.

“Just roll with it,” Gabriel shoots back.

 

Charlie coughs, sauntering over towards the bathroom door.

“Oh, yeah, well, Cas loves to pretend like he doesn’t care.” She leans back against the wood, and Dean flops back out of sight at the last minute, tripping over his pants again. “It’s how he protects himself.”

“But why doesn’t he just tell him?” Gabe asks. Charlie shrugs.

“You know Dean,” she says. “The way they are with each other. If Dean ever found out, he would mock him mercilessly.”

 

Dean stands, scoffing. The hell he would—

 

Sam finally decides to pipe the fuck in.

“I really don’t think that’s how Dean would react. He can be….a little….stubborn, but—”

“Look, Sam,” Charlie interrupts. “I love the guy, but he can be kind of an idiot sometimes.”

 

Dean turns, scowling.

He starts opening and slamming cabinets, trying to make as much noise as possible. _Yeah, Charlie? Well, this idiot can hear everything you’re saying, and you don’t even realize—_

 

“He’s too oblivious,” Charlie continues, ignoring the racket behind her. “He’d make it into a big joke and Cas would be destroyed. I don’t want him to get hurt like that.”

“WHAT,” Sam yells. “YOU DON’T THINK HE SHOULD TELL HIM?”  
Gabriel sinks his face in his hands, exasperated.

 

Dean pauses at that, hanging on the answer. So sue him—he’s curious.

 

Gabriel turns, so his back is to Dean, and glares at both them, making a rather rude gesture with his left hand.

“ _YEAH,”_ he says evenly, hissing the word through his teeth. "WHY NOT?”

“ _Because,_ ” Charlie stresses the word sadly. “I think it’s best if Cas keeps on pretending. So neither of them get hurt.”

There’s a great big collective sigh from Sam and Gabriel. Charlie raises an eyebrow.

“You won’t say anything, will you, Sam?”

 

Dean holds his breath.

 

He sees Sam shake his head, tucking a hand into his pocket.

“No, no. My lips are sealed. I won’t breathe a word.”

 

“Well!”

 

Gabe jumps up, beckoning to the other two.

“Guess we just have to hope Dean comes to his senses.”

He speaks up, turning towards the bathroom door.

 

“Maybe he’ll realize just how great a guy Cas is!”

 

He flashes a thumbs up at Charlie and Sam, and they nod back, barely holding back their grins.

 

“Hey, why don’t we go wait for the others on the balcony? Sam, you got your wallet, right?”

 

x

 

The three of them rush off back towards the main room, laughing and congratulating themselves.

Charlie punches the air in victory.

“We got him!”

Sam shakes his head, laughing.

“Damn. I never thought he’d fall for it.”

“But now we gotta do the same for Cas,” Gabriel says, shushing them as they reach the hall, checking to see that he isn’t around. Charlie pulls out her phone.

“I’ll send out the bat signal. They all know what to say, right?”

“They better,” Gabriel responds.

“What do you think’ll happen at dinner tonight?” Sam asks. “With both of them in the same room?”

“With any luck, they’ll be speechless,” Charlie says.

“For once,” Gabriel snickers.

 

They all laugh, heading back upstairs.

 

x

 

Dean is left frozen in the bathroom, one sock on, pants halfway down his legs, the bathroom faucet slowly dripping water.

What. The. _Hell_.

 

He would think this is a joke, but _Sam_ knows. Dean remembers, he went to every performance of that godawful play he was in—Sam can’t act for _shit_.

 

No...it must be true, then.

 

This thing between him and Cas, their weird tumultuous battle of a relationship—Dean would never have thought, _for one second,_ that it was because Cas was hiding feelings for him. He always is so scathing, so cutting with his remarks. Not to mention that nine times out of ten they’re completely accurate—half of the reason Castiel is so infuriating is because he’s so perceptive—he’s always seen right through to the heart of Dean and been able to say the exact thing to piss him off.

 

Slowly, realization starts to trickle in, as Dean starts turning over every interaction between them in his mind, seeing them in this new light. Cas’s haughty aloofness, the snide comments about Dean’s love life, the dogged proclamations about being single—it was all just to hide his true feelings. Dean sits back, stunned he hadn’t seen it before.

Then he winces, remembering their fiery exchange in the tailor’s shop. And then last night, at the club. With a jolt, Dean realizes—Cas wasn’t trying to insult Dean—he was talking about _himself_.

It’s true, Dean hasn’t been exactly kind to Castiel—but he thought he was just meeting fire with fire, Cas’s vitriol with his own. But now….

 

Dean sets about to finish getting ready, suddenly self-conscious.  His hair is still wet, but it’s not sitting right, and he doesn’t understand half of the moose’s various hair products. He quickly pulls on his pants and deems his outfit acceptable. He runs another nervous hand through his hair. Cas is going to be at lunch—but Dean can’t act any different. He will not tease him, screw you, Sam—he’s not that kind of asshole. He will be….civil.

 

Civil. Right. Treat him like a friend. Because he can definitely do that. Dean has learned plenty from the various times they’ve been forced to hang out.

Like Dean knows Castiel will drink milk in his coffee but never sugar. He hates cilantro, so much that he’ll sit and pick it out of whatever he’s eating before he takes a single bite. He tolerates action movies but loves westerns, despises getting up early, and always tips, no matter what. He’s rebellious and contrarian to the point of fucking insanity—but is incredibly kind. And gentle. And—

Dean swallows, his cheeks flushing.

_Someone like Cas? Fall for someone like me?_

He catches sight of himself in the mirror.

_Can’t imagine why._

 

Besides…

Dean fiddles with the buttons on his shirt.

_Maybe his feelings aren’t so one-sided._

As soon as that thought hits his brain, he’s almost overwhelmed with the truth of it. In fact, now that’s he’s thinking about it, Dean’s sudden disinterest in hitting the bars had coincided with Cas’s move to the Bay Area.

 

He nearly bursts out laughing, clapping a hand over his mouth. He stares at his giddy reflection in the mirror, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. He looks like a man in love.

Oh shit.

 

Dean turns and sets his back against the wall, sliding to the floor, dizzy. He sinks his head between his knees.

“Oh, I’m horribly in love with him too,” he groans.

 

x

 

The fan whirs lazily above their heads. Alicia spins her sunglasses on her finger, blowing out a breath. Max checks his watch.

“What is taking Dean so long?”

“Guess he’s still getting ready,” Eileen says.

“Cas, why don’t you go check on him?” Charlie suggests slyly.

Gabriel snickers.

 

Cas blinks at her.

“Why me?”

She just shrugs.

 

Cas huffs and rolls his eyes but gets up, accepting the room key from Sam on the way out.

 

He finds his way into the Winchesters’ room, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Hey. Prima Donna,” he calls. “Some of us would like to eat soon.”

 

Dean yanks the door open almost immediately. His cheeks are pink, his eyes are bright, and he seems slightly disheveled, hair sticking up every which way.

“Castiel,” he says breathlessly. “Hi.”

Cas gives a pointed look at the mess on Dean’s head, then crosses his arms.

“Hi,” he says shortly. “Against my will, I’ve been sent to tell you to hurry up.”

Dean just stands there, beaming at him.

Cas raises an eyebrow. No comeback?

“....And that’s it,” he finishes slowly, staring at him. Dean still doesn’t answer, just gazing at Cas, a starry look in his eyes.

Cas is definitely starting to get weirded out now. It’s not like Dean to let more than thirty seconds pass between them without a jab or a barbed insult. Maybe he’s finally lost it.

Dean seems to jerk out of his reverie, and blinks, still smiling at him.

 

“Thank you, Castiel,” he says, voice still breathy and high. “Thank you for telling me.”

Cas raises an eyebrow.

“Believe me, not a problem.”

He digs up some sarcasm, letting it drip all over his next words.

“If it was, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Dean actually seems to _laugh_ at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Man, Castiel, you’re funny,” he says.

The compliment catches Cas off guard. There was no joking, no hidden tone to Dean’s voice, nothing to suggest he was anything but sincere.

Cas stands there for a moment, unsettled, unsure of what to say.

“Well, I, um—I’ll let them know you’re almost ready.”

“Okay,” Dean says dreamily.

 

Cas turns and heads off back to the penthouse, utterly bewildered.

 

And maybe he’s imagining things, but he could swear he hears Dean heave a contented sigh.

 

x

 

He’s talking with Alicia about her class and how the school year is going so far, when Dean finally arrives.

“There he is!” Gabriel calls.

 

Cas looks up. Dean’s wearing a completely different shirt, and it looks like there was an attempt to comb back his hair.

“Hey, guys,” he says, giving an awkward little wave. “Sorry I took so long.”

He makes eye contact with Cas and promptly trips over the end table.

 

Sam rushes over to help him up, and Cas turns, looking back at Eileen.

 _What the hell?_ He mouths.

She just shrugs.

 

Behind them, Charlie and Gabriel silently fist bump.

 

x

 

Cas drops the last grounds into the filter and shuts the basket door, pressing the brew button. So sue him, he’s making coffee because even though it’s three in the afternoon, he’s tired as hell. At least that’s how he’s trying to explain it. His insomnia and exhaustion must be causing this weird-ass hallucination.

Because the last few hours can’t have been real. Cas spent the entire lunch constantly aware of Dean staring at him, a goofy smile on his lips. He had barely spoken five words altogether, none to Cas, and had hardly touched his food. Just fucking stared.

 

Cas presses his fingers to his temples, rubbing slightly as he waits for the machine to finish up.

His memories from last night are hazy. He remembers the shots, Gabriel plying him with more and more drinks, talking with Sam….and then the fight with Dean. There had been a moment where Cas thought they were on the same page for once, but then Dean had stormed off, looking angry and hurt. Cas winces. Maybe he had finally crossed a line last night, some sort of unspoken boundary. Maybe this was Dean’s new strategy. He’d had enough of the back and forth bullshit between them, and was now going for an odd sort of silent treatment.

Still doesn’t explain why Dean was looking at him like Cas was the goddamn sun.

Cas frowns, biting his lip.

Very odd, indeed.

 

The machine beeps and Cas sighs, running a hand through his hair. He pulls a mug down from the cabinets and pours himself a hot steaming cup, hearing the front door slam as Max and Alicia return from the casino. Their babble of voices is joined by Eileen in the hall. Cas sighs, trying to tune them out as he pulls the milk from the fridge, ready to make his escape with his coffee, so he can sit and think, ruminate some more on Dean’s weird behavior.

He unscrews the cap on the milk and starts pouring.

 

“—don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, of course you don’t. But I think Cas deserves to know.”

Cas pauses.

“He’s too proud, Eileen. It’ll never work.”

Cas cocks his head, listening hard. They’re talking about him? Why?

 

Alicia sighs, the sound of her sandals scuffing over the floor.

“But are you sure Dean really loves Cas?”

 

Cas drops the carton.

He jerks back, cursing as milk goes everywhere, all over the counter and dripping down onto the floor. He dives for the paper towels and starts to mop it up, freezing when he hears Eileen again.

“That’s what Charlie says. And Sam. He told me last night,” she says, sounding smug.

 

Cas gapes, frozen by the cabinets, milk slowly dripping onto his shoulder.

 

“Apparently it’s all he ever talks about.”

“Well, I don’t doubt it,” Max interjects. “You seen the way Dean looks at him?”

 

_Sitting on the restaurant patio in the blazing hot sun, Dean staring at him, Dean sighing, Dean just—_

 

Their footsteps sound down the hallway, and Cas panics, scooping up the entire mess and throwing it in the sink. He whips out of sight behind the fridge just as the three of them enter the kitchen, still talking animatedly.

 

“And did they say you should tell him?”

Eileen hops up on the counter, shrugging.

“Charlie thinks so, but Sam is less sure. He says Dean would be mortified if Cas ever found out.”

“Really?” Max asks.

He heads towards the fridge, and Cas holds his breath. Max pulls open the door, rummaging for something, and Cas sees his chance.

 

He dives towards the island counter, hidden by the open fridge door, and crawls around to the other side, kicking one of the island chairs out of the way in his haste.

 

Eileen and Alicia look away from the chair that had moved all on its own, deliberately glancing skyward.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Eileen says loudly. “Are you kidding? Imagine Cas’s reaction.”

 

Cas hears the fridge door close, the snap of bottle tops being screwed off.

 

“What do you mean?”

Eileen takes a sip of something, then sighs.

“Look. I’ve known Cas for a long time. He’s my best friend.”

Cas allows himself a small smile.

“But nobody’s heart was made of prouder stuff than his.”

 

Cas scowls, straightening in indignation—and smacks his head on the underside of the counter.

He drops back against the cabinet, grabbing his smarting scalp.

 

“He can be harsh, he can be disdainful—and he is utterly ruthless when it comes to love.”

“The last person who tried to hit on him went away crying,” Alicia says conspiratorially. “Dean doesn’t deserve that.”

 

Cas drops his hand from his head, his brow pinched, frowning.

“So the poor guy will just have to live with his unrequited love,” Eileen says sadly.

 

She sneaks a glance at her feet, to Cas’s terrible hiding place, then straightens back up.

 _It’s working,_ she signs to Alicia, who covers her mouth to hide a giggle. _Now we gotta start singing Dean’s praises._

Alicia schools her face into a neutral expression, tone going serious.

“I still think you should tell him.”

“No way. And if anything—I’m going to tell him to give up on Cas.”

 

Cas gives an aborted shake of his head, almost speaking out loud until he claps his hands over his mouth.

 

Max walks around the side of the island counter, and Cas almost has a heart attack. He leans his elbows on the counter and Cas can see Max’s shoes, not three feet from him.

“I don’t get it. Cas is one of the smartest guys I know. You’d think he could pull his head out of his ass and realize how great Dean is.”

“You’d think,” Eileen says sagely.

“I mean, he’s smart,” Max says.

“He’s funny,” Eileen adds.

“He’s hot,” Alicia chimes in.

“You’re gay,” Max says.

“So are you,” Alicia retorts.

“So I can appreciate him more,” Max answers airily.

“And Cas isn’t a bad catch either!” Eileen says.

 

They all pause.

 

Cas drops his hands, glaring at Eileen’s legs.

 

“Well.”

 

Max walks around the counter, and Cas shrinks back, holding his breath.

“I guess we’ll just have to hope Dean can work up the courage. And that Cas will realize what he’s been missing.”

He turns his back just as he comes in sight of Cas’s hiding place, gesturing to his sister. She and Eileen join him, walking with him out towards the balcony doors.

“If he can’t,” Alicia calls over her shoulder, “then he’s not worthy of Dean anyway.”

 

They disappear out the doors, and Cas deflates, sinking back against the cabinet, his brain buzzing blankly.

 

He blinks, once, twice.

 

“WHAT?” He says, aloud to the empty room.

 

They have to be fucking with him. It’s the only logical explanation.

He shakily stands, forgetting completely about the coffee.

No way this is true. It can’t be.

And yet…

Cas drags his hands through his hair as he walks down the hall, thinking.

 

It _does_ explain Dean’s behavior.

 

Cas makes it to his room and shuts the door behind him, pressing his face against the cool wood.

His first instinct is to immediately scoff and shrug this off. It’s not like Cas hasn’t been the object of unwanted affection before. He could simply do what he always does, turn up his nose and scorn anyone who comes after him with intentions of romance.

 

And if there’s anyone he would reject immediately, just based on fuckin’ principle, it would be Dean Michael Winchester. The man had been a thorn in his side ever since Cas moved to take the job out in San Francisco, the baggage he’d have to suddenly deal with if he ever wanted to spend time with Alicia or Charlie. He’d tolerated it for a while, for them. But there was only so much he could take. Of the constant insults, the posturing and the bravado. One day he’d just snapped, and he and Dean had been at each other’s throats ever since.

 

And the whole time Dean had been in love with him. _Love._

 

Cas would never have dreamed it. Never in a thousand years, that someone like Dean would want him. Dean, the man who stubbornly wore his worn leather jacket all through the California summer, who drove a car older than both of them, who turned down a job at Google to create his own startup, who has freckles dusting his cheeks, soft and sad green eyes—

Cas groans, balling a hand into a fist.

 

He has no reason to doubt what he’s overheard. Eileen is his best friend, Alicia very possibly his second, after Gabriel—and he can think of no reason why they’d trick him in such a cruel way. No, it has to be true.

Cas drops into the desk chair beside the bed, his legs refusing to support his weight anymore. He stares a hole in the wall, chewing at his lip. 

He’s been too harsh on Dean, surely. Cold, even. There’s no reason Cas can’t be a least….civil from now on. A person as smart and generous as Dean deserves as much.

 

Because now, if he’s thinking about it….Dean really is kind. And sweet. He may flirt incessantly and certainly knows his way around a liquor bottle, but Cas knows from Eileen that he paid for Sam to enroll in an ASL class, that he fixes cars for the people in his neighborhood pro bono, and that he had never given Charlie a reason to doubt him, throughout the entire process of starting a business. Cas had never really understood it, or gave it much thought before. How Dean had shaken up his perfectly constructed world, how his sparring matches with Dean had made him feel alive, after so many years of feeling nothing. How his gut seemed to throb and twist every time he thought of the man who was the only one who didn’t treat him like he was some gem or some perfect flower to hold up. Cas had always assumed it was his anxiety, or his adrenaline giving him a boost for the trading of insults that was sure to follow, but now looking closer—

 

Cas sinks his head on the desk.

Crap.


	6. Chapter 6

Max comes in through the door, hauling a couple bags. Gabriel trots in beside him, grinning.

“Hey, we’re back! And we brought some groceries.”

 

Max dumps the bags on the counter, and Gabriel starts to root through them, finally surfacing with a bottle full of golden liquid.

“You know, so we can stay in tonight. Enjoy each others’ company.”

“Plus, I got tequila,” Gabe says, shaking the bottle.

“Yeah, but who’s going to cook, genius?” Eileen asks.

Everyone looks at Dean. He rolls his eyes.

“Just because the rest of you would burn water,” he mumbles.

 

He gets up and turns on the faucet to wash his hands, starting to order them around.

“Max, Alicia, get to chopping, Sam, Eileen—salad—nothing _too_ weird,” he stresses, with a glance to Sam. “A decent mix of arugula and spinach and iceberg, thank you.”

“What can I do?” Gabriel asks. Alicia looks up, snorting.

Perhaps she’s remembering the time Gabriel tried to make breakfast for them and nearly singed off his eyebrows. Dean certainly does.

“Drink duty. You are banned from the kitchen.”

Gabriel grins cheekily.

“Works for me.”

He heads off to the outside bar, and Charlie comes up next to Dean’s elbow, tying her hair back.

“You can’t really mess up pasta, right, Charles?” Dean asks, pulling down a big pot. She salutes.

“Can’t guarantee it.”

 

He checks on the rest of them, and just as expected, stops Sam from adding some truly awful things to the salad—(“Where did you even _get_ beets?”)—and sets about making his world-famous homemade spaghetti sauce. He’s stirring the ground beef in when there’s soft footsteps behind him.

 

Dean nearly drops his spoon.

 

“Hi,” he says breathlessly.

“Hi,” Cas says back, smiling shyly.

He’s in just a t-shirt and some soft pants, freshly showered, hair still damp, a few droplets dripping onto his shoulder. Dean licks his lips.

“Um, Dean?” Charlie says, tapping his shoulder.

“What?”

She just points.

“Shit—”

The pot on the stove is smoking, and Dean curses and goes back to it, quickly fixing the heat, stirring and muttering to himself.

 

Cas moves to his side.

“Can I….help?”

Dean stops stirring, looking over.

“Yeah?”

Cas gives him a small nervous smile. Dean fiddles with the spoon in his hand, stammering.

“Well, um. A….salad?”

“We already made one,” Sam mutters, just audible. Eileen smacks his arm.

Neither Dean or Cas notice. Castiel smiles, twisting his fingers.

“I think that’s the safest option. I can hardly mess up a salad.”

Dean guffaws loudly.

 

 

“Dude.” Alicia elbows Charlie, then glances around at the rest of them. “You seeing this?”

 

 

They all shut up, watching Dean and Cas at the counter. Cas laughs—honest to god, full-on laughs—at something Dean says, and they keep darting glances up at each other, blushing.

 

“Nailed it,” Gabriel whispers.

 

x

 

Dean can’t stop staring.

It’s like he’s seeing a whole new person. Instead of prickly and condescending, this Castiel is soft and smiling, throwing him small shy looks as they work next to each other. God—how could he never have noticed it before? And it was only because of _Dean_ that Cas had been so hostile. Dean was the idiot who refused to understand his own feelings.

Deep in the back of his mind, though, he knows it’s not quite true. He was simply caught up in the game, the back-and-forth routine they’d established, and he could bury his attraction to Castiel under the irritation and sarcasm. It was easy when he thought Cas hated him. But now….

They’re just talking, conversational, about nothing. And Cas is _incredible._ Still snarky with humor drier than the Sahara, but he’s so….open. He listens as Dean explains the steps of making the main dish, admitting his own attempts in the kitchen have mostly ended in disaster. Dean laughs and tells him about learning to cook for Sam when his mom had to work double shifts, and about how he had to get creative when they spent time with their dad and there wasn’t much in their fridge besides bread and a six-pack.

 

“Here, grab that bowl for me.”

The two of them bring the dishes to the table, and they all dig in, their friends happily talking and joking around them as they fill up their plates. Dean ends up opposite Cas, and he can’t help but drink in his fill, sneaking glances at him when he’s not looking, engrossed in conversation with Alicia on his right. But despite Dean's newfound lightness, it's undercut with a creeping melancholy.

Overhearing that first conversation, he was elated—but then his head caught up with his heart, Dean realized he could never tell Cas what he overheard. It would betray his trust, massively, to know his friends had been discussing it like that—and Charlie had said it herself. Cas would die if he knew Dean had found out. No matter what Dean’s feelings might be now.

So he can do nothing but watch, watch as Cas laughs, light and carefree, his smile lighting up the room. Dean props a hand on his cheek, his heart aching.

All he can do is atone for his actions before.

  

x

 

Alicia tucks a lock of Charlie’s hair behind her ear, leaning forward to give her a kiss.

“Go out and have fun,” she says, smiling. “Flirt with all the ladies you see.”

“That’s not very conventional,” Max says, smirking. Charlie flips him off.

“We’re not a very conventional couple,” Alicia says smugly.

 

She turns, adjusting her tiara that says ‘Bride-to-be’.

“Ready to go? Where’s Cas?”

“Should be downstairs,” Eileen says. “He had to pick up the limo.”

“I can’t believe you guys are going in a limo,” Gabriel whines. “You sure I can’t switch groups?”

“Shut up,” Charlie says. “We’re gonna have a blast. The stuff I planned will make a limo seem lame in comparison, trust me.”

“I’m starting to think this is just a competition of who can have the better bachelorette party,” Sam says. Charlie grins.

“You’re damn right.”

 

“Well, if _my_ group is all ready, we’re gonna head out,” Alicia says. She gives Charlie one last quick kiss. “Roll out!”

Max rolls his eyes but follows. Eileen moves over to Sam, smiling.

 _See you soon,_ she signs, before standing up on her toes to kiss him goodbye.

 

“We are LEAVING without you!” Alicia yells from the doorway.

 

The limousine is really just an excuse to drink as they drive down the strip, the night a wild blur of neon lights and colors. There’s already every conceivable bottle of liquor and mixer stocked in the limo, but they stop anyway and get these giant ridiculous tumblers of sugar-bomb drinks that have them way past tipsy and on the way to full-blown drunk in no time.

Their first stop is dinner, then the casino, at Max’s insistence, and a dance club, the first out of many.

 

x

 

_One New Message_

 

**_1-817-555-0401_ **

>hello dean

>i hope you dont mind

>charlie gave me your number

 

**Sent:**

<hey!

<no, no problem

<castiel, i assume :)

 

**Cas:**

>yes

>i was wondering how your night is going

>ours seems to be headed towards drunken disaster

 

**Sent:**

<lol

<ours too

<charlie’s breaking out the board games

<im googling flights back

 

x

 

“We’re not seriously playing _Settlers_ at your bachelorette party, are we?”

Charlie rolls her eyes.

“No.”

She purses her lips, glancing across the room.

“But now that you mention it….”

“Oh, god,” Gabriel mutters. “SAM! MORE VODKA!”

 

x

 

**Cas:**

>we’ve already seen four people thrown out by security

>im starting to realize this is typical

 

**Sent:**

<not your usual scene, huh?

 

**Cas:**

>the opposite, in fact

>when alicia told me we were coming here for the wedding i considered leaving the country

 

**Sent:**

<DUDE

<same

<this is like, the opposite of what a good time is

 

**Cas:**

>i could not agree more

 

x

 

“Cas, I’m surprised,” Max says, his eyes glinting. “You’re not your usual stick in the mud self tonight.”

Cas opens his mouth, but before he can reply, Eileen smirks, raising her hands.

 

 _He’s downright cheerful,_  she signs. _Who are you and what have you done to Cas?_

“Ha ha,” Cas says sarcastically.

“Yeah, and why do you keep checking your phone?”

Cas coughs, avoiding the question. Alicia scoots up to him, swirling the drink in her hand.

“Maybe he’s in love,” she says, smirking. Cas goes bright red, his ears heating up. Max scoffs theatrically.

“Oh come on, there’s no way he’s in _love_.”

They all pause, watching as Cas opens his mouth, tongue-tied.

“I….am….”

Eileen and Alicia lean in.

“Just happy for you guys,” Cas mutters, quickly hiding his face in a glass.

Max snickers, and Alicia just rolls her eyes.

 

x

 

**Cas:**

>so not a fan of vegas

>but what about other places?

 

**Sent:**

<what do you mean?

 

**Cas:**

>charlie says you go out quite frequently

 

**Sent:**

<well, uh

<yeah

<not so much anymore

 

**Cas:**

>oh

>i was thinking...

>never mind

 

**Sent:**

<what?

 

**Cas:**

>it could be fun

>at the right place

>i haven’t seen much of san francisco since moving i’m afraid

 

**Sent:**

<oh

<well we could go together sometime

<i mean, if you want

 

**Cas:**

>i’d enjoy that

> :)

 

x

 

“To Charlie and Alicia!”

They all toast, knocking back the shot. Dean stands, smiling secretly as he pockets his phone.

“Let me get the next one, okay?”

 

The second he’s gone, the three of them lean forward, whispering excitedly.

“Dude, he got a haircut, and shaved, and I didn’t even _make_ him,” Charlie says gleefully.

“And he’s wearing _cologne_ ,” Sam adds. “He looks younger.”

“And hotter,” Gabriel says, smirking. Charlie nudges him.

“I think that’s good as proof as any that our plan worked.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “He didn’t even bitch when we started on the party games.”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “When has he ever looked this happy?”

“Well, hot damn, Dean Winchester’s in love,” Gabriel says. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

 

“We gotta meet up with the others right now.” Charlie whips out her phone. “We gotta get these two idiots together.”

 

x

 

Ketch leans back against the hotel bar, scanning the casino with steely eyes. Mick comes up and slides into the seat next to him, unbuttoning his suit jacket. Ketch sets down his drink.

“You got it?”

Mick reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a phone, setting it on the bar next to the room key for the penthouse.

“You know, this is quite illegal,” he says. Ketch just glares at him.

The passcode is no trouble, and then Ketch pulls up a certain phone number, quickly inputting it into his own phone. He types something out, quickly, then knocks back the rest of his drink.   

His cell buzzes with a reply. He grins.

“Now time for Part Two.”

 

x

 

Eileen follows Alicia as she leads her through the packed club, feeling the vibrations of the thumping bass through the floor. They reach a small area where they dance floor is not completely jammed with people and they start to dance, swaying as the lights flash and the crowd pulses around them.

 _Where’s Cas?_ She signs. Alicia jerks her head towards the bar.

 _More drinks,_ she answers, before spinning around to the beat. Max grabs her hands and they both laugh, Max twirling her under his arm.

Eileen smiles. She’s pleasantly buzzed, and everything about the night has been perfect so far. They’ve finally reached their final stop of the Marquee Club, where the others will join them. Eileen’s looking forward to getting a dance out of Sam.

She sees Max say something to both her and Alicia, but in the flashing lights she misses it. It’s been a little exhausting to have to be reading lips this entire trip, but she’s used to it. Cas and Alicia are fluent in ASL, obviously, after the time they spent learning in college after meeting Eileen, but everyone else has only a fundamental basis of the language. Gabriel tries, bless his heart, but has never really mastered it. The rest understand some basic signs, but for the most part, she’s been stuck with reading lips. A little hard to do in a dark club, though.

Alicia moves closer, fingers moving quickly.

 _We’re going to hit the bathroom,_ she says. _You good?_

Eileen waves them off, quickly replying.

_Yeah, you go. I’ll wait here for Cas._

Alicia grins, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before they make their way through the dancing crowd.

 

Eileen’s phone buzzes where it’s stashed away in her pocket, and she pulls it out, expecting to see a message from Charlie or maybe Sam. Instead, it’s from an unknown number.

 

_One New Message_

 

**+44 1632 960419:**

>Hello.

>This is Castiel, correct?

 

Eileen squints down at the screen, and slowly starts typing a reply.

 

**Sent:**

<who is this?

 

**Received:**

>Arthur Ketch. I believe we met.

 

Eileen scoffs. She remembers a little _too_ clearly.

What does this guy want, and why does he think he’s texting Cas?

 

**Received:**

>I had hoped we would find time to talk in person but this will have to do. I apologize for contacting you like this, but I would like to express my concerns about one of your party.

 

Eileen frowns. She knows she should probably mention that she’s not Cas, but whatever this guy’s issue is, she can probably pass on the message.

 

**Sent:**

<who?

 

**Received:**

>One of the men staying with you. The tall one.

>Sam, I believe his name is.

 

Eileen pauses.

 

**Received:**

>We had to remove him from our hotel just now.

>We normally see several types of wild behavior, especially during a hen night. But this was unacceptable.

 

Eileen stares at the phone, wondering if she should continue the conversation. They all agreed, whatever happens tonight, they’d all be given a pass—what happens here, stays here, and all that—but she’s dying of curiosity. What could have Sam and the rest of them gotten up to that pissed off Ketch so much?

 

**Sent:**

<what did he do?

 

There’s a moment before there’s a reply.

 

**Received:**

>How do I put this delicately….

>He and the lady should not have been doing what they were doing in the public restroom.

 

Eileen feels like her heart nearly drops out of her chest.

_What?_

 

Sam and….Charlie? No, that was impossible, there had to be a mistake—

But there’s no misunderstanding what Ketch is implying.

A strange feeling curls in Eileen’s gut. She types in the message carefully, despite her shaking hands.

 

**Sent:**

<how do you know it was sam?

 

**Received:**

>He left his phone behind after they were….interrupted.

 

_One New Picture Message_

 

>This is his, correct?

 

It is. It’s Sam’s phone, complete with the carved wooden case and the Stanford Law sticker adorning the back. Something hot and acidic chokes Eileen’s throat.

 

Her phone buzzes again, and despite wanting to chuck it at the nearest wall, she reads the next text.

 

**Received:**

>I would like to deliver it.

>Tonight if possible.

>I would speak to Gabriel about it, but he has blocked my number.

 

Eileen stares at the screen, blood pulsing in her ears. Then, she makes her decision.

 

**Sent:**

<Marquee Club. now.

<i’ll be waiting by the door

 

She shoves the phone in her pocket and starts to push her way through the crowd.

 

x

 

Ketch smiles, pulling his keys from his pocket and tossing them to Mick.

“You drive.”

 

x

 

“Anybody seen Eileen?”

 

They’d finally all made it into the main room of the club, but it looked like it might be time to call it a night. Charlie and Alicia are tangled up on one of the couches nearby, and if one of them doesn’t come up for air soon, Sam might have to go break it up. But he’s increasingly worried. Max said he hadn’t seen her in about half an hour. Sam pats at his pockets, and frowns.

“Shit.”

Dean comes up next to him, holding out a beer.

“What?”

“My phone.” Sam waves the beer away, still searching in vain through his pockets. “I must’ve lost it somewhere.”

“Where was the last place you had it?”

“I don’t know, I—”

Sam curses.

“You know, I might have left it at the hotel.”

“Seriously?” Dean smirks. “Rookie move, Sammy.”

“She’s not outside or by the bathroom,” says a voice from behind them. “I checked.”

Sam turns to see Cas, looking at his own phone. “And she’s not answering any of my calls.”

“Shit,” Sam says again. But Dean is suddenly rooted to the spot, his hand clenched on his beer.

“Castiel,” Dean blurts.

Cas notices Dean beside his brother, and he freezes too, like a deer in headlights. Sam groans, rubbing his face. He can’t deal with this right now.

 

“I’m going to look for her,” he says. Neither Dean or Cas seem to notice.

Sam shakes his head, and heads towards the bar. Asking the bartender seems like a good place to start.

 

x

 

The bouncer at the door tries to stop them, but all it takes is his name and a couple bills for them to walk straight in. Mick stays for a few moments more to ask a few questions, and then he’s at Ketch’s side in a moment.

“Well?” He asks, straightening out the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Girl’s been loitering in that room for the past twenty minutes,” Mick says, indicating a small alcove near the club entrance. She’s biting at her lip, checking the phone in her pocket every few moments. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find the giant.”

“And you know what to do when you find him?” Ketch asks. Mick gives him a nod.

“Excellent.”

Ketch turns, cool eyes once again training on the object of his focus. Behind him, he notices Mick hasn’t moved. Ketch glares at him.

“What?”

Mick shrugs.

“Just, there’s gotta be hundreds of girls here. You could get any one of them. Some of them for the right price.”

For a moment, Ketch just stares at him coldly. Then his face splits into a sly smile, his eyes cruel and calculating.

“No, no, that won’t do.” He turns, looking at the brown-haired girl by the door. "It’s all about the chase, my friend.”

 

x

 

Sam says something, lost to him in the loud noises of the club, but Cas barely registers it. Dean is across from him, holding two glasses in his hands. His eyes are locked on Cas’s, and he barely has a reaction when Sam leaves.

Castiel tucks his phone away, moving in closer.

“Hey."

“Hi,” Dean says back. He looks around briefly, then holds out one of the pints. “Looks like this is for you.”

Cas accepts it, and drinks about half of it before stopping.

“Whoa, slow down, cowboy,” Dean says. “What’s up?”

Castiel curls his hand around the drink, steeling himself. He’s got to say it before he loses his nerve.

“I feel I should apologize,” he blurts.

Dean blinks.

“Apologize? For what?”

Cas can barely hear hear him over the throbbing bass, and he moves a little closer, leaning in.

“Everything,” he says. “Myself. I don’t know.”

He takes another drink, bubbles popping against his tongue.

“I might be a little drunk.”

Dean’s eyes widen, and then he laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“No, man, no way.” He shakes his head. “If anyone should apologize it’s me. I’ve been a complete ass to you.”

“I wasn’t much better,” Cas admits.

The music is pounding through his ears, the colored lights illuminating Dean’s face. He’s wearing darker jeans and a leather jacket over his plaid shirt, with a few of the buttons open at the collar. It’s very distracting.

“I want to start over,” Cas says. “If we can.”

Someone pushes past Castiel behind him and he’s pressed up closer to Dean, who catches his elbow to steady him. He doesn’t need it, he’s not _that_ drunk—but he selfishly leans in, catching a whiff of Dean’s cologne.

 

Dean is looking at him, his voice dropping low.

“Couple of dumbasses, huh?” He asks.

Cas licks his lips.

“Looks like.”

Dean’s eyes really are very green. His hand is still on Castiel’s elbow.

He removes it, and Cas’s heart drops for a second, before Dean holds his hand out again.

 

“Hey,” he says, smiling. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dean.”

 

Cas laughs, and takes it.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

 

x

 

Eileen checks her phone for what seems like the thousandth time, when suddenly she feels someone behind her. She whips around, angry that someone was able to sneak up on her.

The man holds up his hands.

“Relax. Eileen, yes?”

 

She does, but her heart is beating faster than ever. From all Gabriel has told her about his side of the family, Ketch isn’t exactly trustworthy, but she owes it to herself to find out if he’s telling the truth.

She prays to God he’s not, but there’s a small voice of doubt inside her that says, _‘Cas was right.’_

 

“I’m looking for Castiel,” Ketch says. “Or Gabriel. I have something I need to discuss with them.”

 

x

 

It takes him less than fifteen minutes. The boy in question is giving one of the bartenders quite a hard time, threats and words lost underneath the pulsing music. Mick sends a quick message to Ketch with location, then turns to look for a good subject.

She’s dancing with a few other women, but he sees the way she’s giving looks to the men around her. Mick approaches quickly, taking her arm.

“Hey, what the—”

He cuts her off, turning so that they’re facing the bar.

“You see that man there?”

She follows his eyes to where Sam is still talking to the bartender, gesturing angrily.

“Yeah,” she says haughtily. “So?”

“So,” Mick repeats. “I will gladly compensate you for a favor involving that gentleman. And sending a few texts.”

She tries to remove her arm from his grip.

“Fuck off,” she says. Mick just holds up a few folded hundreds, and she quickly stops struggling.

“Let me tell you exactly what you need to do.”

 

x

 

“So I’m sure you understand,” Ketch says.

 

Eileen turns away, pressing a hand to her mouth.

She hadn’t wanted to believe it. But then Ketch had offered out Sam’s phone, showing the recent slew of messages, a large number of them from some woman named Heather, who had thanked him for the good time they had earlier and had included in great detail what she was planning for ‘next time’.

Eileen feels like she’s about to throw up.

 

Ketch twists his lip, barely concealing his smile.

“Perhaps you would like some water.”

 

She’s vaguely aware of Ketch leading her through the crowd towards the bar area, but her anger is starting to pulse red-hot in her blood. She had trusted Sam. Trusted him—and that was a big fucking deal for her. He asked her to move in, just last week—and then he goes to Vegas and dabbles a little on the side?

The bastard has got another goddamn thing coming.

 

“Eileen?”

 

Eileen nearly cries.

“Gabriel,” she blurts, collapsing into his arms. She doesn’t want to be strong anymore.

“Whoa, hey—”

Gabriel tries to get her to look up, but she’s shaking, her face buried in his neck.

“E, c’mon—what’s wrong?”

She still doesn’t answer, and Gabriel looks up, seeing Ketch standing there. His worry instantly turns to anger.

“What the fuck did you do?” He snarls.

Ketch quickly holds up his hands.

“Nothing, I assure you,” he simpers. “Except….I believe I was the bearer of bad news.”

 

After a moment, Eileen catches her breath, long enough to explain, in halting words, just exactly everything Ketch had relayed to her, as well as show him the messages. Gabriel’s face darkens, but he’s still eyeing Ketch with distrust.

“No, no way,” he says, shaking his head. “There’s gotta be some sort of explanation. You don’t think Sam would—“

“Say, isn’t that him?” Ketch asks, pointing.

 

Eileen looks. She follows Ketch’s gaze to where he’s pointing, and what she sees breaks her heart.

 

Sam is standing at the bar, his back to her, but it’s undeniably him—even through all the lights and haze. He’s talking with some _girl_ and even though they’re too far away for Eileen to read their lips, she can still read every line of her body language. She’s curving towards him, her hand on his arm.

Eileen is ready to move, to go and confront him, ask him what the hell is going on—when the girl wraps her arms around Sam’s neck and kisses him.

 

The flights flash, a few people jostle past them, blocking their view for a moment—but it’s beyond a doubt. The girl presses Sam against the bar and his hands move to grab hers, undeniably kissing her back.

Behind him, Gabriel curses. Eileen turns away, not wanting to see anymore.

“Let’s go,” she mutters, grabbing Gabriel’s arm.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Gabriel says, over and over again. “I’m going to fucking kill him—“

“Yeah? Get in line,” Eileen snaps.

Neither of them notice Mick and Ketch disappearing into the background.

 

Eileen wipes at her eyes, dragging Gabriel towards the exit.

“Let’s just go.”

 

x

 

“Whoa, whoa—”

Sam grabs the girl’s wrists, pulling her off him.

“Hey—no. Not interested.”

She had just come up to him, minutes earlier, and started just babbling about who the hell knows what—and Sam had listened to her out of politeness—but then she had started rubbing her hand up and down his thigh, and Sam had realized exactly her intentions.

She has to be drunk, because she grabs Sam’s arms and wraps them around her waist, leaning forward to kiss him again.

Sam pushes her away, a little more firmly this time, putting some decent space between them.

 

“Seriously.”

 

He looks her dead in the eye, hands on her shoulders.

“I said no, alright?”

She narrows her eyes, and after a moment shrugs his hands off.

“Whatever. Limey already paid me anyway.”

 

She disappears before Sam even has a chance to ask what that means—but he’s distracted at that moment by the appearance of Gabriel, who’s not his usual smiling self.

“Here,” he says shortly.

He grabs Sam’s hand and slaps his phone into it. Sam doesn’t even thank him or manage to ask him where he found it, startled by his harsh tone.

“I found E. She’s fine. We’re going to head back to the hotel now.”

“Whoa, wait, is she—”

But Gabriel turns and pushes off through the crowd before Sam can get another word out. He runs a hand through his hair, utterly bewildered.

He checks his phone, looking at all the missed notifications and texts, including some that look like they’re from a wrong number. He opens up a message of his own to send.

 

**To: Eileen**

<you okay?

<im coming back now too

<lot of crazy stuff happened

 

He heads toward the exit of the club, waiting anxiously for a reply.

He finally gets one, almost half an hour later.

 

>I’m fine. Just tired.

>See you tomorrow.

 

x

 

“I swear, as soon as I get him alone, I’m going to—”

“Gabriel, drop it.”

“You know, I’m loathe to give Cas credit on anything, but he was fuckin’ right,” Gabriel growls. “Sam—god, never thought he’d be the type, but I guess he’s just like his goddamn brother.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Eileen says, arms tightly crossed as they watch the numbers fly past on the elevator.

“And Charlie’s always singing his praises, and I thought—”

Gabriel stops, going pale.

“Shit,” he says slowly. Eileen frowns.

“What?”

 

“Charlie. Alicia,” Gabriel continues, whispering. “The wedding.”

 

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open, but neither of them move.

“What does that have to do with any of this?” Eileen asks.

Gabriel’s mouth is set into a thin line. He turns, striding out of the elevator, and Eileen hurries to follow him, getting more and more confused.

“Don’t be mad, but—”

“Little late for that,” Eileen mutters.

Gabriel stops at their door, and Eileen halts beside him. He sighs.

“We can’t say anything. Not yet.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Think about it—”

Gabriel swipes the card and pushes the door open, Eileen following closely.

“You dump Sam the morning of their wedding? Eileen, I know you’re miserable, but multiply that by seven more people. Charlie and Alicia would be devastated—not to mention Dean, and Max—”

Eileen stops, her shoulders sagging. Gabriel is right.

It would ruin the entire day—regardless of how much Sam fucking deserves it. She can deal with it for one more day—then the second they’re back in California she’ll rip him a new one.

“Fine,” she says, gritting her teeth.

 

It’s not until Eileen gets back to her room that she sees the text.

 

 

Taking a deep breath, she types out a reply.

 

 

**Sent:**

>I’m fine. Just tired.

>See you tomorrow.

 

x

 

Dean comes up next to him at the curb, looking at his phone.

“Car should be here soon,” he says.

Cas nods, rubbing his arms against the midnight chill. After Gabriel said he and Eileen were heading back, the night started to break up. Cas thought it best to leave Alicia and Charlie right where they were, and Sam had already left. Max had responded that he met an _actual_ firefighter and probably wouldn’t make it back to his room tonight. Dean had called a car and they were now waiting for it outside the club.

“You’re cold.”

 

Cas looks over. Dean is no longer looking at his phone, but him, frowning slightly. Cas shrugs.

“Who’d have thought Las Vegas would get cold at night?”

He looks back off down the road, snorting.

“And you told me to ditch the trenchcoat.”

When he gets no response, Cas sobers, looking back over at Dean. He’s still staring at Cas, and seems to be chewing his lip.

Then, to Cas’s surprise, he starts to take off his jacket.

 

“Here.”

 

He moves over to Cas’s side, putting it over his shoulders. Cas takes a breath, but makes no move to back away. Dean’s hands come to the lapels of the jacket, making sure it’s sitting straight. Cas is quiet, eyes on Dean’s face.

Dean’s eyes flick up, coming to meet Cas’s. There’s a moment where neither of them move, just still.

Dean’s gaze drops to Cas’s lips for a moment, the briefest of looks. Cas’s heart quickens, thumping steadily in his chest.

Dean leans in—

 

_Honk honk._

 

 

Dean and Cas jerk back away from each other, startled. The driver of the car rolls down his window.

“You Dean?”

“Yeah, um—”

Dean glances back at Cas, who drops his eyes to the ground.

 

 

He gets into the back and Dean sits up front, making awkward small talk. He keeps his eyes determinedly out the window, and misses the constant looks Dean darts up to the rearview mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eileen, noooooooo!
> 
> Don't worry, it's a comedy, it all has to work out in the end!  
>  ~~Or does it????~~


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nsfw (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

_I remember meeting Alicia. I knew instantly that_

 

Dean stops, tapping his pen against his teeth. Then he straightens, poising his hand back over the page.

_As you all know, Charlie is my best friend, since the 6th grade. So when she said she had someone for me to meet, I—_

Dean scowls, and scratches that one out too.

 

They’d gotten back to the hotel at roughly two in the morning, and Dean had been up at nine to start attempting to write his speech. Sam had been in and out, getting ready to meet with the rest of the group. Alicia’s mom had arrived earlier that morning and Charlie’s parents had come in late last night, so most of the group was out at brunch, spending some time together before the main event later in the day.

 

But here Dean was, stuck attempting to summarize eighteen years of friendship.

 

He looks at the mess of cue cards in front of him, and drops his head in his hands.

Christ. Why did he agree to this?

 

_Knock knock._

 

Dean looks up.

“Yeah?”

 

The handle turns, and then Cas is there in the doorway, looking tired and rumpled and perfect.

Dean doesn’t manage to do much more than stare at him.

After they got back, Instead of sleeping, Dean had been mostly replaying that moment outside the club, over and over in his mind. Cas’s cheeks, pinkened by the cold. There had been a lock of unruly hair just by his ear. Dean had wanted to brush it back—

Cas coughs, and Dean is jolted back into the present. Cas holds out his jacket.

 

“I, um. Came to return this.”

“Oh.” Dean shrugs, gesturing towards the chair by the door. “You can just toss it there.”

 

Cas does, albeit instead of tossing, he folds it carefully and places it on the arm of the chair. He pauses for a moment, his hand on the doorknob.

“Max said we should be ready to go downstairs at one.”

“Oh! Yeah.” Dean looks around. The clock on the wall reads 11:48. Shit.

 

He drags his eyes back to the cards in front of him, one hand rubbing at his temple.

Cas hovers for a moment, like he wants to say something, then turns to go.  
Dean makes his decision.

“Hey, Castiel, wait—”

 

Cas stops, turning those eyes back on him.

“Uh, actually can you—”

Dean sighs, gesturing at the mess of paper and ink in front of him.

“I’m supposed to give this toast and honestly, man….I’m out of my depth here.”

 

He looks up. Cas is tilting his head quizzically, watching him.

“Can you help me?” Dean asks.

Cas blinks.

“Write your speech.”

“Well, you know.” Dean shrugs. “You’re the writer, and all that.”

Cas snorts.

“If you call wrangling various egos to get a readable paper ‘writing’,” he says dryly.

Then he frowns. “You left this ‘til now?”

Dean huffs.

“We’ve had nonstop parties the last few days, what do you think?”

He sinks back, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And I might’ve been procrastinating, because I have _no_ idea what to say.”

Cas is still frowning.

 

But after a moment, he steps away from the door and sits at the edge of the bed, nodding towards Dean at the desk.

“Read me what you got so far.”

 

Dean bites his lip, but pulls one of his less-pathetic drafts towards him and starts reading.

It’s horrible, and awkward, and stilted, and Dean can practically feel Cas wincing. After about a minute he stops, dragging a hand over his face.

“It’s crap, I know.”

Cas shakes his head.

“No, it’s—”

Dean just gives him a look. Cas sighs.

 

“Give me the pen.”

 

He grabs one of the other chairs, dragging it next to Dean’s. Dean hands the pen over, and he’s still processing how close they’re sitting when Cas starts speaking, going back over Dean’s clumsy ramblings and phrasing. He crosses out some things, adds a few words or corrections here and there. Dean gets utterly distracted by how Cas furrows his brow, how he chews at the end of the pen when he’s thinking, and the slow movement of his hand across the paper. Dean has to remind himself several times to focus.

 

After some time, Cas sets down the pen, shuffling a few papers. Dean clears his throat.

“Well?”

Cas frowns slightly.

“Not sure I like it, but—” He sits up. “Remember, it’s not about how much you say ‘I love you.’ It’s about how you show it. May you continue to show your love for each other each and every day.”

Dean makes a face. Cas matches it.

“I know.”

He groans, rubbing a hand over his face.

“This isn’t exactly easy for me, either.”

 

Dean reaches out and takes the pen, idly turning it over.

“Talking about the lovey-dovey stuff?”

Castiel shrugs. Dean clears his throat.

“You really don’t ever….want that? With anyone?”

Cas looks up. He opens his mouth, hesitating.

 

“I….don’t know,” he says slowly. "Both us have not been the most….complimentary, in the past. When it comes to relationships and weddings and—“ He coughs, flushing slightly. “Boyfriends and all that….”

Dean sucks in a breath. Cas clasps his hands, looking down at his fingers.

“But I think, I’m, um. Starting to find the idea….” He shrugs one shoulder. “Interesting.”

Dean swallows, his throat dry as sand.

“Yeah?”

Cas nods.

 

There’s a moment where neither of them speak. Then Cas chuckles, but it’s slightly sad.

“But I guess it’s not in the cards,” he says softly.

 

Dean grips the pen so hard in his hand he figures it might break. He has to look away before he does something stupid, like kiss him.

 

“Anyway.”

 

Cas shuffles a few cards, shaking his head at the ones he’s rejected.

“I’m going to grab my laptop,” he says, standing. “And then we’ll figure this out.”

 

At twelve minutes to one, they’ve managed to cobble together something halfway decent. Dean dictates and Cas types, tongue between his teeth as his eyes flick back and forth across the screen. Dean actually does break the pen this time.

 

After a moment Cas sits back, swiveling the computer around to face Dean.

“How’s that?”

Dean reads quickly, then twists his lips.

“The beginning still sucks,” he says, groaning. Cas shakes his head.

“Dean. Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated. Like you tend to do.”

 

It sounds like the same kind of thing Cas used to say in their sparring matches, but this time, there’s no malice to his voice. He deletes the offending passages, then crosses his arms, thinking.

“Imagine you’re talking to Charlie. Nobody else.”

“But that’s the problem,” Dean says, throwing up his hands. “It’s not just her. I gotta worry about being fucking _entertaining_.”

He talks faster now, letting every frustration and fear spill out, every reason he didn’t want to do this in the first place.

“If I make it too heartfelt, people will be bored, and then if I make jokes, it’ll sound too flippant, but I know everyone will expect me to go with jokes, because I’m Dean, and that’s what I do—”

He stops, taking a deep breath.

“That’s not all there is to you, though,” Cas says softly.

 

Dean looks up.

“What?”

Cas isn’t looking at him.

“That’s not all you are,” he says, fiddling with the edge of his laptop. “You’re much more than that.”

Dean stares at him, hardly daring to believe it.

“You’re intelligent, you’re kind….” Cas pauses for a moment, then looks up, meeting Dean’s eyes.

“You have the biggest heart, but you only let it show when you think no one’s watching.”

 

Dean is frozen. After a moment he has to drag his gaze away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wow, Castiel,” he gives a hollow laugh. “Kinda always thought you weren’t paying attention.”

Cas colors, but is silent. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it. He pulls the laptop towards him again, fingers poised over the keyboard.

“There’s nothing wrong with being heartfelt,” he says, determinedly not looking at Dean. “What do you want to tell her?”

 

Dean has to shake himself. Don’t focus on what Cas said just now. You can’t. Get this goddamn speech done.

 

He sighs, and steeples his fingers, thinking. What _does_ he want to say?

“I want to tell her that….”

That he was wrong. That he never was against love, not really. That he was just being a coward, afraid of getting hurt again. And that Charlie and Alicia are so stupidly happy together that it makes Dean _ache_ with a strange, sad want. And that he’s starting to think the man across from him could be that for him.

“That watching Charlie and Alicia is….it’s what I always imagined it would be,” Dean says softly. “Finding someone who just gets you, someone who’s your best friend, who will have your back, no matter what, but will also know when to call you out on your shit. Being able to wake up to that, every day. Not to mention the crazy sex—”

“Don’t think Charlie will appreciate you mentioning that,” Cas says, smiling.

Dean blushes, stuttering.

“Oh, yeah—right. I was talking about—Charlie.”

 

Cas goes very still beside him. Dean clenches his fist, running a thumb over his knuckles, his heart beating loud in his ears.

 

A knock at the door jerks him back to reality, and Dean shoves his chair back, cheeks hot.

“Yeah, um. Come in.”

 

Sam appears at the doorway, already in his suit.

“Hey, either of you ready? We gotta be heading downstairs soon.”

“Um, yeah, I just—” Dean makes an abortive gesture towards Cas.

“Oh, yes—well.”

Cas stands too, snatching up his laptop.

“I’ll send you the final version.”

 

Dean nods, and nods. Sam’s mouth is starting to twitch.

“I’ll get changed,” Castiel says. “And I’ll see you downstairs, Dean.”

“Y-yeah,” Dean stammers. “Okay.”

 

Cas disappears out the door, and Dean gathers up his mess of papers, babbling.

“Had to write the speech, um—I’ll get ready now, it’ll take ten minutes tops. Won’t need to waste time on my hair, that’s for sure.”

He looks up, and Sam is grinning, smiling from ear to ear. Dean blushes furiously, shoving past him.

 

“Shut up, Sam.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Just shut it, alright!”

 

x

 

 

The wedding is something straight out of a fairy tale.

 

Neither Alicia nor Charlie wanted to get married in anything remotely resembling a church, and so the outdoor garden area served as their altar, the aisle covered in red and pink rose petals, gauzy swathes of white crossing overhead. Instead of a calm brunch, most of the morning had been spent in complete chaos, between the arrival and greetings of relatives, Alicia’s last-minute freakout over her dress, and crises with the various moving parts of the wedding—(the caterer had gotten stuck in traffic for nearly thirty minutes and the cake had begun to melt in the sweltering Vegas heat)—but everything had come together.

Sam scans the crowd, blushing and averting his gaze when an older red-haired woman catches his eye, but not before she has a chance to give him a saucy wink.

He gently taps Eileen, turning to face her.

 _Aunt,_ he signs, after a moment of trying to recall the sign. _Staring at me, again._

He chuckles, indicating the woman in question. Charlie had introduced them earlier. Apparently she had flown in all the way from Scotland, and had seemed very interested in getting to know Sam better.

Eileen just purses her lips, and turns away.

Sam frowns.

 

She had been acting strange and cold towards him all morning, but with all the errands and running around, Sam really hadn’t had time to ask her about it. Come to think of it, Gabriel had been acting cagey too. Maybe Sam had signed something wrong and accidentally insulted her. Wouldn’t be the first time. First time he’d attempted to sign something to Eileen, he’d done the ASL equivalent of flipping her off.

Sam just wants to chalk it up to pre-wedding jitters. Out of all of them, Charlie and Alicia are the first of their friend group to get married.

Sam glances at Eileen, and smiles. If he has his way, they won’t be the last.

 

Maybe she wasn’t feeling great after the bachelorette party last night. That must be it.

Speaking of which—

 _Hey,_ Sam says, getting her attention again. _I want to tell you about last night—_

But she cuts him off, grabbing his hands.

“I don’t want to hear anything about last night,” Eileen says aloud, her eyes hard. “Let’s just get through this.”

Sam turns, looking at her carefully. She’s beautiful, as always, hair gently falling around her shoulders, her wine-colored dress contrasting against her skin.

“Okay,” he says slowly, leaning forward so Eileen can see his lips. “But tomorrow, then?”

“Fine,” Eileen snaps. _Tomorrow,_ she says, quickly making the sign.

Sam sits back in his chair, leaving it for now.

 

He takes Eileen’s hand, noting her stiffness, and he can’t help the uneasy feeling in his gut.

 

x

 

Cas should be looking at the brides. At Alicia, at Charlie holding hands in front of Max as he officiates. At the cloth that shimmers like silk above their heads, at the starry lights that dazzle the entire room.

But he only has eyes for Dean.

 

He mists up, slightly, when Alicia and Charlie exchange vows. They both look beautiful, in their dresses, with matching flowers in their hair, and Cas can’t help the ache of joy as he watches two of his greatest friends profess their love. But he finds his eyes sliding to the man beside them, who’s holding it in just about as well as Cas himself is.

Dean is stunning, in his crisp dark suit, and his eyes are watering.

When it comes time for the speeches, Dean’s blows them all out of the water.

 

Max speaks, of course, as Alicia’s best man. Alicia’s mom, Tasha, gets up too and says a few words. Gabriel even has his own chance at the mike.

But Dean. He’s taken Cas’s words and mixed in some of his own, and created something entirely unique. He’s funny, and heartfelt, simultaneously joyous and incredibly sincere, and Cas finds himself falling in love with every word.

Oh, god.

He shakes himself, turning back to the bar.

Love.

 

That conversation Castiel overheard in the kitchen seems like a lifetime ago. So much about what he thought he knew had been upended, flipped on its head.

And Dean. Oh, Dean.

There’s no trace of the animosity from before—Cas spent the last three days actually getting to _know_ Dean, and it was so deliriously wonderful, it almost felt orchestrated. Now that all that stinging wit is no longer concentrated on him, Castiel finds he quite enjoys it. He’s never felt such an easy lightness with someone, a quiet radiating joy at just being with another person. His friends, yes—but this is different. Conversation with Dean flows just as easily as it does with Alicia, or Eileen, but Castiel feels this constant _pull_ towards him, a desire to know him, to learn him. To find out everything about Dean, his hopes, his wishes, his fears. Cas hadn’t dared breathe a word about Dean’s true feelings—he could never hurt him like that—but instead Cas had done everything he could to communicate that his feelings were now quite the opposite of what they had been no less than a week ago.

 

Dean finishes up with his speech, to great applause, and hastily exits the stage. To his surprise, Dean immediately makes his way towards Cas, smiling sheepishly.

“Hey.”

He gets a glass of champagne from the bar and downs it in about two seconds, before turning towards Cas again.

 

He’s beautiful. Cas finds himself just staring, and Dean, to his credit, is staring right back.

For all their verbosity in the past, they certainly have nothing to say now.  

 

The tuxedo is certainly doing Dean many favors, and the lights around him make him look almost ethereal. Cas may make his living off of words, but it would take a master to be able to to describe the exact shade of green of Dean’s eyes. Maybe that famous one, with all the sonnets.

“Your, um—here.”

Dean reaches out, taking a hold of Cas’s tie, which had flipped around sometime during the ceremony, and fixes it, making sure it lies flat.

“I’m glad I didn’t end up wearing blue,” he says, almost absently. “You look way better in it.”

 

Such an artist would be able to capture Dean’s beauty in paper and ink, so he would never be lost to time.

Castiel’s fingers twitch.

 

x

 

Sam pulls out his phone, sending a quick photo off to Mom, who requested one of the happy couple. They’re currently doing the bouquet thing, which is a little funnier when there’s two of them.

He taps Eileen softly, signing to her.

 _You want to try?_ He smiles, hoping it’ll melt some the icy coolness she’s been treating him with all night. Instead, she gives him a scathing look.

Sam frowns.

“Okay, what is _with_ you tonight?”

Eileen freezes, and turns fully to face him.

 _"Excuse_ me?”

“You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all day,” Sam says, throwing up his hands. “Did I do something wrong?”

Eileen glares at him for a moment, then turns away, crossing her arms.

“No,” she mutters. “No. Not doing this now.”

Sam stares at her for a while longer, bewildered. Then his temper gets the better of him, and he shoves his phone in his pocket, turning away.

 _Bathroom,_ he signs, even though she’s not looking at him. He stalks away, taking a moment to shuck his suit jacket and toss it to the side, loosening his tie.

Seriously, what was up with Eileen?

 

He grabs a glass on his way back towards the dance floor, accidentally bumping into someone on his way.

“Excuse me,” he mutters, not bothering to stop.

 

Ketch steps back, smirking.

“Of course.”

 

x

 

A loud raucous cheer comes the assembled crowd, interrupting their staring contest. Charlie has grabbed the microphone, and she’s up there with Alicia, swaying a little.

“Alicia and I want to thank everyone for coming,” she says, almost spilling her champagne. “And now that we all got you here—”

 

Dean snorts, shaking his head as Charlie’s speech gets more and more rambly. He sneaks a glance at Cas, who’s also watching the disaster currently unfolding onstage, his lips pursed in a way that Dean recognizes as barely holding back laughter.

Cas smirks.

“Charlie's really digging herself a deep one, isn’t she?”

Dean laughs.

“I guarantee you, I will _never_ let her live this down.”

Cas chuckles, bringing the champagne up to his lips.

 

Dean awkwardly rolls his empty glass in his hand, wishing he had found a place to deposit it. But it’s giving his hands something to do, something to focus on other than Castiel, standing barely a foot from him, in a suit and looking so fucking good.

Alicia finally manages to drag Charlie away from the microphone, and the music starts up again, most of the guests finding their way back to the dance floor. Dean watches amusedly, as Gabriel twirls one of Alicia’s cousins around, despite him being about half a foot shorter.

 

“Do you want to dance?” Cas blurts.

Dean turns to stare at him. He's got to be joking.

“What?”

“Do you—”

Cas runs a hand through his hair, speaking awkwardly.

“Do you want to dance? With me? Right now?”

For a moment, Dean just gapes.

“No,” he finally sputters.

Castiel’s face falls, and he looks completely heartbroken.

“Oh.”

“No, I mean—” Dean takes a breath. “I just—I don’t dance. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

That changes things. Dean barely registers the mischievous look in Cas's eyes before he's snatching up Dean’s hand, grabbing his glass and setting it aside.

Dean balks, but suddenly Castiel’s hand is around his waist, and Dean is frozen.

 

Cas quietly steps in closer, lacing their joined hands together.

“There,” he murmurs. “Not so bad, is it?”

 

Dean takes a deep breath. He’s all pressed up against Cas, his hand in his, his other arm circled around Dean’s waist. It’s….nice.

 

Cas smirks.

“What?”

Dean shrugs.

“Nothing.”

He turns his head, staring out at the assembled crowd. He tries to focus on anything else except Cas's body against his own, the soft breaths next to his ears.

They shift, and Dean sees a couple with their eyes fixed on them—and he looks away, flushing.

“I feel like a fool,” he murmurs.

 

Cas squeezes the hand that’s already clasped, looking at him, concerned. He’s just a few inches shorter. Dean’s never noticed.

“Why?”

Dean gestures with his head.

“Everyone’s staring.”

Cas chuckles.

“Nobody’s staring, Dean,” he says softly, slowly swaying them on the spot.

“You are,” Dean shoots back.

 

Cas is quiet for a moment.

 

“Well,” he says eventually. “I’m allowed.”

Dean huffs, blowing out a breath.

“And why’s that?” He asks.

Cas smiles.

“‘Cause I’m dancing with the best-looking man in the room,” he says softly.

 

They slow, barely dancing anymore, Dean staring at Cas. They’re still pressed close, the party continuing around them, but everything else has slowed to a standstill.

“Funny,” Dean murmurs. “I thought that was me.”

Cas’s answering grin is blinding, his whole face shining with radiance.

 

He leans forward, pressing his forehead gently against Dean’s. Dean inhales, closes his eyes.

“I can’t believe I might have missed out on this,” he murmurs.

Cas’s hand squeezes gently.

Dean’s heart is racing, he can hardly think. He looks at Cas, steeling his courage.

“I really want to kiss you,” he confesses.

 

Castiel’s eyes widen. There’s a short moment where he’s still, and then he nods, once.

They’re so close already that it’s almost nothing to lean in and bridge that short space between them, the one last distance remaining.

Their lips meet, soft at first, tentative. Cas brings one hand up to the back of Dean’s neck and Dean melts against him, sinking against the feeling of Cas’s arm around him. They pull back for a moment, still pressed close, breathing softly. Cas’s eyes roam all over his face, like he can’t believe it, like he can’t believe he gets to have this. Dean knows. He feels exactly the same.

He leans back in, pressing his lips to Castiel’s own, hands coming up to frame his face. Cas responds with enthusiasm, and it soon turns heated, Castiel gripping at Dean’s hair like he can’t get enough, his other hand tangling in the back of his shirt.

 

“A- _hem._ ”

 

They two of them break apart, but Cas’s hand still stays on Dean’s hips.

 

The aforementioned nosy relative clears their throat again, and a flash of irritation clouds Dean’s mood.

He grabs Castiel’s hand.

“C’mon,” he says.

 

x

 

They barely make it off the dance floor before Cas is stripping Dean of his jacket. They see a corner where they recognize Sam and Gabriel’s coats already abandoned, and both of theirs join the pile.

Dean grabs Castiel’s collar and pulls him in for another kiss, Castiel pressing him back up against the wall.

“We really—” Cas groans as Dean starts kissing down his neck. “Shouldn’t do this—here.”

Dean huffs impatiently, kissing Cas again before he pushes him back, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the hall. He starts trying every door—most of them are locked, but he opens one and finds a supply closet. He glances back at Cas.

“We are in a goddamn expensive hotel, we are not going into a fucking closet—”

“Jesus Christ, Castiel—”

“You know—”

Cas reaches over Dean’s head, slamming the door closed. Dean’s heart skips a beat. Cas crowds him back up against the door, pressing both hands up by Dean's head on the wood.

“You are the only one who calls me that,” he breathes against Dean’s lips.

Dean smirks, twisting one hand around Cas’s tie.

“To be honest, it was mostly to piss you off.”

Cas scoffs, but Dean just pulls him closer.

“Admit it,” he says, slowly kissing along Castiel’s jaw. “You like it.”

He reaches his ear.

“Castiel,” he growls lowly.

Cas grabs Dean’s wrist, and Dean’s pulse kicks up a notch.

“I need to get you into a room,” he grits out. “Before we get kicked out for public indecency.”

Dean grins.

 

They finally find an unlocked door, one of those rooms that’s set up adjacent to a big banquet hall, mercifully empty. There’s even a fucking couch.

“Thank god,” Cas mutters.

 

He shoves Dean back on it, and starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, pulling them open quickly.

“I’ve never hated tuxedos more than I do now,” he growls. Dean laughs, sitting up.

“Let me help, then.”

He grabs his arm and pulls him down, kissing him again. They get thoroughly distracted and spend a good while just like that, kissing and exploring each other. Then Cas shifts and presses up against Dean’s dick, and he remembers his previous goal. He sits up, still kissing Cas, who seems reluctant to let Dean’s lips leave his for even just a second. He pushes the shirt from his arms and throws it off somewhere to the side, ridding him of his undershirt as well.

And has to stop. He stares for a moment, shock and amusement and lust battling it out and making him incapable of speech.

“Dean?” Castiel places a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, it’s okay if you want to stop—”

“You’ve got a tattoo,” Dean chokes out. Cas glances down.

It’s right there, in black against golden skin, some sort of text and symbols in an ancient-looking language. Dean reaches out, brushing his fingers against it.

“You never told me you had a fucking _tattoo_.”

“You never asked,” Cas says mildly.

 

Dean places his mouth there, and Cas groans.

 

x

 

“Dude, where _is_ he?”

Gabriel stops stuffing his face with mini lemon tarts, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Who?”

“Dean,” Charlie says, swinging her hand and spilling half of her champagne. Alicia rolls her eyes, grabbing Charlie’s arm and supporting it over her shoulders. “I need him for pictures.”

“Haven’t seen ‘im,” Gabriel manages to get out around a mouthful of cream. “Come to think of it, haven’t seen Cas for a while either.”

Charlie lights up, looking at Alicia with glee.

“Is that _so_?”

 

x

 

“Guess there—is stuff—we still don’t know about each other,” Cas manages to get out, in the middle of a fairly fantastic blow job, if Dean does say so himself.

He lifts his head, wiping at his mouth.

“Think we were too busy arguing for small talk.”

Cas’s chest is heaving, and he pulls Dean up, kissing the taste of him off Dean’s lips. He grinds his hips once, slow and dirty, and Dean groans, hand tightening on Castiel’s wrist.

“I’m willing to find out, though,” Cas murmurs. His hand moves down and he laces his fingers with Dean’s. “The things I don’t know about you.”

Dean stares at him, his mouth going dry.

“Yeah?”

Cas nods.

“Yeah.”

 

Cas divests Dean of his own clothes rather quickly, grabbing fingers catching at buttons, dragging his hands through his hair. Dean’s pants are barely off before he’s wrapping his legs around Cas, hands grabbing onto his thick waist as Cas hoists Dean up and presses him back against the couch, thrusting against him. They don’t have the equipment to do much more than grind against each other like they’re in high school, but oh, it’s working for Dean—as Cas kisses Dean’s neck, holding Dean’s right hand above his head, the other circled around his waist as they move together.

“Castiel,” he groans off. “Fuck— _Cas_.”

To his displeasure, Cas abruptly stops. Dean tilts his hips up, trying to get Cas to start moving again, but he’s looking down at Dean with a mischievous look in his eye.

“What was that?” He asks, smirking.

Dean realizes what had slipped out of his mouth, and he sets his jaw, trying not to smile.

Cas lowers his head, just barely teasing Dean’s lips with his own.

“Say it again.”

Dean grinds his hips up.

“Just fucking kiss me, Cas.”

 

Cas obliges, and it isn’t long before Dean is panting, warmth curling in his gut, Cas’s hand on Dean’s dick and his mouth on his neck.

“Next time, this’ll be on a bed,” Cas whispers, twisting his wrist in a way that causes Dean to cry out.

“ _Shit_ —next time?”

Cas’s hand slows, and he pulls back slightly.

“You don’t—” He cuts off, an uncertain look in his eyes. Dean shakes his head.

“No, no—”

He sits up, bringing one hand to Castiel’s cheek.

“I do. God, I do.” He chuckles nervously. “Just wasn’t sure you did.”

Cas brings his hand up to curl softly around Dean’s wrist.

“As you are mine, I am yours,” he murmurs. Dean hums.

“What’s that from?”

Castiel shrugs.

“Who cares?”

 

He kisses him again, and it isn’t long before Dean’s coming, going lax and pliant as Castiel follows, his hand stroking over the both of them.

 

This is usually the moment where doubt creeps over Dean's mind, where they’re no longer lost in the heat of the moment and regret settles stickily in. But Castiel doesn’t let it happen.

He places his hand on Dean’s jaw, cradling his face in the gentlest of touches, and Dean feels sparks zipping through him at the contact. Then the press of a kiss, smooth and thorough that has Dean floating on air.

 

 

Dean reaches up, brushing the hair back from Cas’s eyes.

 

“Cas,” he murmurs, and the way Cas looks at him sends a shiver up Dean’s spine. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A miracle! Here's our own hands against our hearts." ~Benedick, Act V, Scene IV
> 
> The happy ending we all deserve! Hang on through the brief angst...I tried to get rid of most of the gross misogyny of the original, but what can ya do ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Enjoy :)

They spill out of the doorway, Dean giggling, Cas readjusting his shirt.

“And where have _you_ been?”

 

Cas coughs, quickly dropping Dean’s hand. Charlie plants her hands on her hips, looking between the two of them.

“We, um—“

“Well—“

“Whatever.”

Charlie waves a hand, before grabbing both of their arms and marching them down the hall. “It’s photo time.”

 

“Okay, everyone smile—yes, perfect.”

 

The camera flashes and they all melt out of the forced poses, some chuckling, some scowling. It’ll probably be the only chance they’ll get to have all eight of them together again, and not a single one of them has a camera on them.

“There’s no way the photographer got all of us,” Max pouts, swirling the drink in his glass.

“Sam definitely blinked,” Alicia accuses, and they lapse into half-hearted arguments, squabbling over each other’s supposed photogenicity.

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for this,” Dean mutters, downing half his glass. Charlie stands.

“Well. If y’all are gonna be such drama queens, me and my _wife_ are going to find a solution.”

She grabs Alicia’s hand, but Dean squints at her.

“You mean to tell me that Charlie, technology queen, doesn’t have a cell phone on her?”

Cas laughs, staring at Dean. The alcohol has made given him spots of color on his cheeks, and he’s looking at Dean like he hung the moon—in fact, they’re both positively glowing. But Charlie can’t give herself the time to stop and congratulate herself—she’s got a mission.

“You see any fuckin’ pockets on this dress?” Charlie says indignantly. “ _Bye._ ”

 

She drags Alicia off through the crowd, not noticing Sam and Eileen off to the side, arguing and gesturing angrily at each other. They keep moving, and though they do get thoroughly distracted once hidden from sight of most of the crowd—(it’s their wedding, they’re allowed to make out in an alcove)—they find where most of the guys have dumped their suit jackets. She pulls the first one up and pats it down, grumbling.

“Never thought tuxes would have this many nooks and crannies, Jesus—”

She comes up with a bunch of lozenge wrappers and a condom. She rolls her eyes. Gabriel. No phone, though.

The next one is a bit more lucrative. She surfaces with a shitton of folded papers, and purses her lips as she flicks through it.

_What can I say about my friend Charlie—_

Dean’s, then.

Charlie sifts through the papers, pausing when she reaches the last one.

It looks slightly different from the other ones, less worn, only folded and creased in half.

 

 _Dear Castiel,_ the first line says.

 

Charlie continues to scan the lines, her eyes widening with every word.

“Leesh,” she says, shoving the paper towards her. “Look.”

Alicia takes it, and not long after, her mouth is hanging open.

“Oh my god,” she murmurs. “ _Oh my god_.”

Charlie snatches the paper back, a wicked grin unfolding on her face.

“C’mon.”

“What?”

“Are you kidding?”

Charlie hikes up her skirt, waving the paper in her hand.

“Cas _writes_ for a living, there’s no way he hasn’t done the same romantic shit.”

They reach the elevator and Charlie presses the up button, smirking.

“I think I can take a break from dancing to hack into his computer,” she says.

Alicia grins.

 

x

 

Dean announces his mission to get another drink, and Cas grins, ready to join him, when Gabriel catches his arm.

“You got a minute?”

Cas looks to Dean, and motions him to go on ahead, before turning to face his cousin.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Didn’t want to do this, but I’m starting to think it’s inevitable,” he says, glancing pointedly behind him. Castiel turns, just in time to Eileen storm off, Sam hastily following her.

He looks back at Gabriel, alarmed.

“Gabe,” he says, noticing the tightness around Gabriel’s mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

 

x

 

Dean rolls the taste of rum and coke around in his mouth, leaning back against the bar.

His blood is still singing, body coursing with adrenaline, the memory of Cas’s hands on him.

And none of them know.

Dean shifts slightly, grinning into his glass.

 

Movement to his right catches his eye, and he sees Cas, marching determinedly up to the pre-poured champagne flutes. Dean turns, smiling, but Cas ignores him in favor of grabbing a flute and downing it in one go. Cas sets it down, and immediately reaches for another.

“Whoa, hey.”

Dean reaches out, stopping him on the third.

“You alright?”

Cas shakes his hand off, clenching a fist.

“No.”

Dean waits.

“You wanna elaborate?” He asks eventually.

Cas glances over his shoulder, and Dean follows his eyes, noticing Gabriel in the corner. He’s silent and still, his arms crossed, and is glaring at everyone who dances too close.

Something is up.

Dean turns back to Cas, raising an eyebrow. Cas sighs, standing.

 

“Just come with me.”

 

x

 

“Sam!”

 

Charlie grabs his arm, stopping him from going after Eileen. She waves a piece of paper in his face.

“Look,” she says gleefully. “ _Look_.”

It’s the last thing he wants to fucking do right now, but Charlie is drunk and insistent, and the sooner he reads whatever she’s shoving at him, he’ll be able to go after Eileen and ask her what the hell he did wrong.

He reads, and reads, and his eyes widen.

 

Charlie explains everything, and she’s got her own weapon, ready for them to produce at the right moment.

“The way those two have been acting the past couple of days, there’s no way it’s not going to happen tonight,” she says happily.

Sam tucks away the letter in his pocket, shaking his head.

“Charlie, this is….great, really, but I can’t really focus on this right now. I have to find Eileen.”

“Somebody say Eileen?”

Max has appeared too, Alicia’s bachelorette tiara perched jauntily on his head.

“Saw her head off that way.”

 

Sam starts off, with Charlie and the Banes following him, frowning and whispering.

He finds her in a side room off the main hall, crying.

“Whoa, Eileen—”

He rushes immediately to her side, grabbing at her hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s _wrong?”_

Sam blinks, utterly taken aback at Eileen’s tone. She stands, throwing his hands off hers.

“What’s wrong!” She says again, voice pitching higher. “I’ll goddamn tell you what’s wrong—”

Max and Alicia have gone silent, staring at them. Charlie’s mouth is hanging open.

“I’m sorry,” Eileen says to them. “But I can’t do this anymore.”

 

x

 

Dean hurries after Cas and Gabriel, towards the source of the shouting. He can hear Eileen, louder and louder with every word. He rounds the corner after Cas, and walks in on a horrible sight.

 

Eileen has thrown her corsage to the floor, standing opposite Sam, her face slowly starting to match the color of her dress. Sam is bone-white, hands feebly reaching toward her.

“Eileen,” he stutters. “I don’t understand—”

“Like hell you don’t,” Eileen snaps. “I _saw_ you. I saw you that night.”

 

Sam blanches, and Dean shoots a glance over to Cas, bewildered. Cas is glaring, his jaw set. Gabriel looks very much the same, staring daggers at Sam.

What the _hell_ is going on?

“You’re a lying bastard,” Eileen snaps. “Cas was right. I should have seen it before.”

Sam is shaking his head.

“No—Eileen, _wait_ , let me explain—”

“There’s nothing to explain,” she spits. Sam takes a step forward, reaching for her in earnest.

“Look, she came up to me—”

“So you admit it!” Eileen says shrilly. “There was a girl!”

“She tried to kiss me, but I pushed her off—”

Eileen scoffs.

“Sure. Bet that’s always your excuse,” she says scathingly.

Dean stares at the two of them, horrified. Sam is utterly still.

“I….” He swallows. “I haven’t been with…. _anyone_ , not in months, since I met you—”

“Pretty words,” Eileen sneers. “I’m sure you say that to all your girlfriends.”

Dean snaps his head to her. _What?_

Sam’s eyes are red.

“Eileen—”

“You stay the hell away from me,” she snaps.

She turns on her heel and stalks away.

With a last loathing look towards Sam, Gabriel follows.

 

They’re all left standing there, frozen.

 

“What,” Max says. “The hell. Was that.”

“Sam?”

 

Dean takes a step forward. His brother is absolutely still, staring unblinking at the floor.

“Sammy?”

He places a hand on his elbow and Sam starts as if from a dream, jerking his eyes up to Dean.

“Why would she….”

“She thinks you cheated on her?” Dean breathes.

“Did you?” Cas asks.

Dean whips his head back.

“Cas,” he snaps.

“It’s only fair we ask so he can explain himself,” Cas says calmly. “Eileen didn’t give him the chance, so let’s hear it now.”

Dean glares at him for a moment more, then leads Sam over to a chair. He sinks into it, or maybe it’s his legs finally giving out.

 

Sam shakily tells them about what happened in the club the night before, his breath halting and ragged.

Dean believes him instantly—Sam’s his brother and he knows him better than himself—he’d never do such a thing, he’s not even _capable_ of doing something so horrible. But Max isn’t looking convinced, and Dean particularly doesn’t like the look on Cas’s face.

“You don’t think he’s lying, do you?” He asks indignantly. Cas tilts his head.

“I….don’t know,” he says carefully. “But I know Eileen. And she wasn’t lying either.” He acquiesces. “At least, she didn’t think she was.”

 

Dean’s earlier shock and worry for his brother is now starting to boil away into a bubbling anger. He stands, clenching his fists.

“She can’t—she can’t just _do_ that, she can’t just _say_ things like that—”

Cas moves to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. It grounds him, pulling Dean back from the edge.

“Why didn’t she trust me?” Sam whispers.

He’s twisting his hands, over and over. Dean bites his lip.

“This just doesn’t make sense,” he mutters. Cas is silent beside him, and he looks like he’s mulling something over.

“Gabriel has his faults, but he’s a good man,” he says slowly. “And Eileen is one of the best.”

At Sam’s flinch, Cas softens.

“Someone must have tricked them,” he murmurs.

 

Alicia steps forward, crossing her arms.

“Who?”

Cas purses his lips.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s only been one skeevy group of British guys that just showed up out of nowhere.”

Realization slowly dawns on Max’s face.

“You’re right,” he says slowly. “And he _was_ sniffing around Eileen a couple days ago—”

“You think they’re behind this?” Charlie asks, incredulous. Cas shrugs.

“Wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Damn,” Alicia breathes. Charlie comes over, squeezing Sam’s hand, then looks at Cas.

“What are we going to do?”

“We find out the truth,” Cas says firmly.

Dean grips Sam’s shoulder.

 

“It’s okay, Sammy,” he says. “We’re going to fix this.”

“No.”

Sam stands abruptly, his hands balled into fists.

“I’m going to fix this. I’m going to find her, and explain to her—”

Charlie steps in front of him, holding out her hands.

“Whoa, really don’t think that’s a good idea right now.” She takes a breath. “I mean, not to say that that drama definitely sobered me right up—but we’ve all been drinking, and she’s not going to be receptive right now. It’ll just lead to another fight.”

Sam stops, breathing hard. His hands are still clenched into fists, but he’s no longer fighting to push past Charlie.

“Let’s start with water, alright?” Charlie says placatingly. She takes his hand.

“Then we’ll find that S.O.B. and sort this all out.”

She leads him back towards the reception hall, where Dean can still hear the music and the party going on. It all seems out of reach to him now.

 

Alicia and Max follow, and Dean starts to as well, before Cas calls his name.

“Dean.”

 

He stops, but doesn’t turn around.

His throat feels tight, and he clenches and unclenches his hands. He feels useless, so he fiddles with his tie. Cas’s silence is starting to unnerve him.

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, giving a shaky laugh.

“I’d say we’re boned on this one,” he mutters.

“Epically,” Cas answers.

 

Dean lets out a bark of a laugh, then sobers. He feels lost and helpless and he wants to walk away, eyes wet with anger and frustration.

“Dean,” Cas says softly.

Dean sits, shaking his head.

“Dean, please don’t cry.”

Dean chokes on a breath, dropping his head.

“It’s a bit late for that,” he mutters.

Cas sits down next to him, placing a hand on his arm.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he murmurs. “And I’ll help you. You won’t be alone in this.”

Dean looks up. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve a soft, kind touch from this beautiful man, who’s looking at Dean like he’s something precious. His blue tie is loose around his neck, and it’s flipped backwards again. Dean aches.

 

“I think I love you.”

 

If he hadn’t been looking right at him, Dean wouldn’t have believed Cas said it.

 

Cas is pale, like he’s unable to believe it, either.

Dean stares at him.

“What?” He breathes.

Cas doesn’t move, still staring. He clears his throat.

“I’ve never loved anything the way I love you,” he whispers, moving to kneel at Dean’s feet, reaching out and taking his hand. “I never thought I would, never thought it was possible, but you….”

He drops his head briefly, grasping for words, fingers gripping tight.

Shakily, Dean brings his other hand to Cas’s cheek. He leans forward, frozen when Cas looks up.

“Surprise,” he says weakly.

 

Dean can only stare at him, until the silence between them stretches, verging on the uncomfortable.

He swallows. Cas’s eyes are so goddamn blue.

“Not exactly,” he blurts. “Because I….”

He closes his eyes.

“I think I love you, too,” he whispers.

Then he panics, standing, dropping Cas’s hand.

“But don’t listen to me, I don’t know.”

He strides away from him, pressing a hand to his mouth.

“I mean, I’m not lying—”

Cas is slowly moving towards him, and Dean is backing away, not entirely sure as to why.

“I confess _nothing_.”

Cas just keeps moving towards him.

 

Dean’s heart is racing.

“Dean.”

 

Cas reaches out, slowly taking his hand. Dean watches as their fingers slip together, and he breaks.

“I love you,” he says. “Oh god, I love you, too.”

Cas’s arms come to circle around him, and Dean holds on tight, pressing his face into Cas’s shoulder.

“Never said that before,” he mumbles. He feels the soft rumble of laughter in Cas’s chest.

“Me neither.”

Cas pulls back, one hand finding Dean’s cheek.

“But I think I waited for the right person,” he says softly.

 

Dean stares back, lost and utterly helpless under those eyes. His heart feels so full it might burst.

 

Like a knife, he remembers Sam, and Eileen—It twists his gut and punctures his happiness, causing him to abruptly pull back. Cas frowns.

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

Dean shakes his head, wiping at his eyes.

“Sam,” he mutters. Cas’s grip tightens on his hand.

Dean looks up. Cas’s brow is furrowed, and he’s thinking quickly.

 

“Come on,” he says, standing. “I have an idea.”

 

x

 

“Hey.”

 

Sam looks up.

Dean holds out a beer.

“Figured you could use a drink.”

“That’s absolutely the last thing I want,” Sam snaps, waving Dean’s hand away. “What a want is a chance to fucking explain myself.”

Charlie is silent on his right, and Alicia’s chewing her lip. They, at least, are showing some concern for the situation. Dean had just disappeared, right when Sam needed him most.

“Hang in there, Sammy,” Dean says, with a sad smile. “I gotta feeling this will all work out.”

Sam opens his mouth to snarl a reply, but he’s interrupted by the arrival of possibly the last person he wants to see right now.

 

“Good evening.”

 

Ketch is standing before them, looking cool as anything.

“Congratulations, again,” he says, inclining his head towards Charlie and Alicia. They just glare back at him.

“Unfortunately, I am here for a rather unsavory reason.” Ketch turns towards Sam. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir.”

Sam stands immediately, and Dean moves to his side, clenching his fists.

“What the hell—”

Ketch takes a step back, perhaps surprised by the sudden difference in their heights. But he barrels on.

“There have been _several_ complaints made against you, and as my family owns this place I have every right to remove you. I also have the testimony of a respectable lady—”

“Fuck that,” Dean snarls. “I don’t know what you did to trick her—”

“No trick, I assure you,” Ketch says smoothly. “Please. Don’t make me call security.”

“This is _our_ fucking wedding,” Charlie says, standing too. She’s the shortest of all of them, but perhaps the most ferocious. “You can’t just kick out our guests.”

Ketch narrows his eyes, but at that moment Cas comes through the door, holding the hand of—

“Eileen,” Sam breathes.

 

Her face immediately twists in shock and anger, and she yanks her hand from Cas’s, hissing.

“What the hell, Cas? I told you I didn’t want to see him—”

Ketch moves immediately to her side, taking hold of her arm.

“Don’t worry, love. I was just asking him to leave.”

Eileen looks at him, glaring at his hand on her arm.

“Excuse me?”

Ketch grins, sharp and poisonous.

“And I’ll be happy to help you get over him.”

Eileen immediately shoves his hand off, voice hard and angry.

“What the hell—get _away_ from me. That’s not what this is about—”

Cas moves and places himself directly in between them, eyes blazing with a righteous fury.

“Eileen. Mr. Ketch.” He glances over. “Sam.”

His tone is steel.

“I think there’s something we all need to hear.”

 

At that moment, Gabriel appears, dragging the other Brit behind him by the arm.

“Hey, all!” He says brightly. “Just heard the most _interesting_ story from our friend here!”

Ketch goes pale. Gabriel releases Mick, nudging him forward.

“Go on,” he says. “Tell ‘em.”

Mick glances nervously at Ketch, who’s glaring daggers back at him. Gabriel coughs.

“Remember our deal, Mick.”

Mick huffs out a breath. He crosses his arms, and starts talking.

 

He explains it all, Ketch’s plan, stealing Sam’s phone, what happened at the bar—and with every word, Eileen grows paler and paler. At one point, her eyes dart over to Sam, then Ketch.

Mick finishes his story, and looks down at his feet, going quiet. Alicia’s hands are over her mouth, and Dean’s face is slowly turning the color of a bruised plum.

Sam can’t believe it. He can’t even seem to speak, fumbling for words.

 

Eileen has no such trouble.

 

She turns to Ketch now, slowly taking a step forward.

“Is this true?” She asks lowly.

For a moment, it looks like he might try to deny it. Then he clenches a hand, tilting his chin up.

“Yes, it’s true,” he says nastily. “And I’d do it again. Everything was going swimmingly until you opened your loud mouth,” he snarls at Mick.

“Oh, _hell_ no.”

Eileen reaches down, pulling off her heels and tossing them to the side.

“Eileen—”

She storms right past Cas and socks Ketch in the jaw.

 

Dean curses, Sam jerks forward—and Ketch goes stumbling backwards, landing on his ass.  Cas grabs Eileen and pulls her back to avoid her inflicting any more damage on Ketch, but there’s a muscle twitching in his jaw.

“Holy shit,” Alicia breathes. Eileen is swearing a mile-a-minute, struggling against Cas’s hold.

“You sick, misogynistic, BRITISH son of a _bitch_.”

 

Ketch sits up, looking shell-shocked. He brings a hand up to his lips, pulling away to see blood on his fingers.

“You _punched_ me,” he says dazedly.

“And guess what?”

Gabriel steps over, waggling his phone in Ketch’s face.

“Already had the pleasure of talking to Auntie. Mick even got the chance to share his story. For his honesty, he’s going to retain his employment here at the hotel. You, on the other hand….”

Gabriel grins.

“You already got a one-way flight back to London booked. If you skip out on packing you might make it.”

Ketch glares up at him, but after a moment, he shoves himself up, stalking out of the room. With a sheepish sort of salute, Mick disappears after him.

 

Max tugs at his tie, swirling his drink in his other hand.

“Well. Today has been a _wild_ ride.”

 

“Sam—”

Cas releases Eileen and she rushes towards him, grabbing for him.

“Sam, oh my god, I’m so sorry—”

Sam shakes his head, hands finding her face.

“No, no need to explain—”

“Sam, I—”

He stops her with a kiss. She melts, and kisses him back, throwing her arms around his neck.

Dean starts making some truly theatrical gagging sounds behind him, but Sam can’t bring himself to care. He’s elated, so happy he feels as if he’ll burst with it. For a moment he thought he’d really lost Eileen for good, and he knows he never wants to feel that way again.

He pulls back, placing a hand on her cheek.

“Eileen.”

He folds his middle and ring fingers down, showing her the clear sign, one he’d made sure to look up and get right.

Eileen’s eyes widen and her whole face lights up, and then she’s kissing him again.

“I love you, Sam Winchester,” she whispers in between kisses. “I love you, too.”

 

“Seem to be hearing that a lot lately,” Cas says in his ear.

Dean looks back, chuckling.

“Gross, isn’t it?”

Despite all his posturing, Dean is all light and giddy. He’s not blind, he’s seen how happy Eileen’s made his brother over the past few months, and he’s glad Ketch’s plot and all his unpleasantness made it out into the open.

“Wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” Cas says softly. He reaches out and takes Dean’s hand.

“I love you, Dean.”

 

The leap in his heart by hearing those words is quickly cut short when Dean realizes every single one of their friends has stopped talking and is staring at them. Charlie’s mouth is open, and she looks positively ecstatic. Sam, too, the bastard.

Dean quickly pulls his hand away, laughing nervously.

 

“Ha, ha, alright, Cas, I mean—” He coughs, darting his eyes around at the shocked faces around him. “Cool. Cool. Cool.”

Cas frowns, confused by his sudden reticence.

“Don’t you love me?”

Dean steps back, shaking his head.

“Noooooo. No.” He laughs awkwardly. “I mean—as a friend, of course.”

Cas’s face drops.

“W-what?” He stutters. “But you said—”

He stops, his eyes quickly growing hard. He throws out a hand, gesturing at Max and Alicia.

 

“Well, then _they_ got something wrong, because they swore you did—”

“You said you loved me—”

“Nooooo,” Cas says, parroting Dean. “But as a _friend,_  of course.”

Dean narrows his eyes.

“Then Sam, and Charlie, and freakin’ Gabe were wrong, because they said _you_ did!”

“They said you were practically sick for me,” Cas snaps.

“They said you were almost dead for me!” Dean yells.

 

Cas stands back, crossing his arms.

“Fine. It doesn’t matter.”

He looks away.

“You don’t love me.”

Dean shrugs.

“Nope. Not at all. Nope.”

 

Charlie smirks.

“Oh, really?”

She glances to Sam, who pulls something from his pocket.

“Because we found something _very_ interesting in your jacket pocket, Dean.”

Dean blanches and leaps towards Sam, but he’s too goddamn tall. Cas swipes the letter from Sam’s hand, brandishing it in triumph.

“I KNEW IT.”

Alicia stands, holding something in both hands.

“And here, did you know Cas has a folder on his desktop labeled ‘Dean’?”

Dean immediately snatches it from her and Cas stiffens, slowly turning his head.

“Charlie Bradbury, you are _dead_ ,” he hisses.

Cas steps back, meeting Dean’s eyes. The pair of them sneer at each other, each holding their letters. At the same time, they flick the letters out, and begin to read.

 

Dean winces. Cas looks more and more weirded out with every line.

“Well.” Dean clears his throat. “It’s a miracle.”

 

Dean glances up, meeting Cas’s eyes. 

They both crumple up the papers and toss them away.

They’re still for a moment, not looking at each other.

 

Cas coughs, shaking out his sleeves.

“Well, I guess I’ll have you.”

 

Dean turns his head, blinking slowly.

“You _guess_?” He scoffs.

 

Cas shrugs.

“It’s mostly out of pity,” he says, facing him. Dean takes a step closer, so they’re almost touching.

“Well, I won’t say no.”

Cas's lips are twitching, like he’s fighting back a smile. Dean continues.

“But I’m only doing this to save your life, so you don’t die of a broken heart—”

 

Cas wraps one arm around Dean’s waist and he cuts off immediately.

“I think we’ve done enough talking,” he murmurs.

 

“DUDE.”

“Leave some room for Jesus—”

“That can’t be legal.”

 

Cas handily flips all of them off, before drawing back, he and Dean sharing a brief, silent moment. Dean squeezes Castiel’s arm, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

 

“Sooooooo.”

 

Gabriel approaches the two, grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Looks like neither of you are bachelors anymore.”

“Gabriel, you are a disaster of a human being,” Cas says, not looking away from Dean.

“Aw, Cas. you always say the nicest things.”

 

Charlie moves up next to them too, grinning.

“Love, huh?”

“Shut up, Charlie.”

“Thought you said it didn’t exist.”

“You can go away now.”

“Thought you said it was for us to stick around to pop out some kids.”

“You know that’s biologically impossible right?” Gabriel interjects.

 

Dean ignores them all, kissing Cas again.

 

x

 

“Well,” Max says, leaning back. “Aren’t we a happy crew.”

Alicia drapes an arm around Charlie’s shoulder, looking around at their assembled group. Sam and Eileen are talking lowly, and Dean and Cas are holding hands, whispering in each other’s ears.

“I think you just need to find a boyfriend,” she says, grinning.

 

Gabriel leans forward.

 

“FYI, still can help with that—”

“SHUT UP, GABE.”

 

~The End~

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

Dean takes Castiel’s hand, and they approach Sam where he’s waiting at the end of the aisle.

He grins at both of them, before starting off on his prepared speech.

 

Dean leans over, whispering in Cas’s ear.

 

“Tell me, what are we doing here, again?”

Cas laughs.

“No idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for reading. Much Ado About Nothing is my very favorite Shakespeare play, and I've always wanted to see our bickering married idiots in the role. If you've come this far, I hope you enjoyed it, and I very much appreciate it ♥
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to visit me on tumblr and talk about s14, or dumbass couples, or anything! I'd love you to say hi :)
> 
> -chevrolangels


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